The Unwanted and I
by M. J. Frances
Summary: SHE'S A PRODIGY. A loving daughter. A caring friend. An ordinary chic who sticks with the norm. HE'S A REBEL. A stubborn eighteen who belongs in the Upper Socials. A dickhead. An outcast to himself. TheUnwanted&I, is a story about the colliding pieces of Ms. Bookworm and Mr. Rebel's life. And how they would learn that life itself is nothing but a box of complicated surprises.
1. intro: verses 1-3

_**the unwanted and i/**_

_(rated t/m; au)_

**M. J. FRANCES**

_complete book description/_

_**she is a prodigy/**_ An intelligent and gifted sixteen year-old who lives in a minimalist and simple life. A loving daughter. A caring friend. An ordinary chic who sticks with the norm.

Annabeth strives for the best yet she is contented to stay in the sidelines. She may be the perfect daughter everyone can be proud of but… is this really what she wanted?

_**he is a rebel/**_ A stubborn eighteen who belongs in the Upper Socials—the world of High School Monarchs and crazy runaways. A guy who never cares where his life might someday lead. A dickhead. An outcast to himself.

Percy can be unsure of his real goal and path. He may be lucky with the popularity and family fortune combined but… is it really all that matters to him?

_The Unwanted and I_, narrated by two different characters, is a fan-slash-song-fiction about the colliding pieces of Ms. Bookworm and Mr. Rebel's life. And how they would learn that life itself is nothing but a box of complicated surprises.

**~xXx~**

_**disclaimer/ **_I do not own most of the characters, especially Percabeth—Rick Riordan's, everyone.

_Some_ of the quotes and lines are also not mine. I'll put credits at the end of every _set of verses_.

Also, I disclaim the songs I'll use in here; I'll put their titles and the respective artists at the end, too, with some links so you can listen to them if you like.

_**author's note/ **_This story is purely a work of fiction and art. The motivations, inspirations and reasons of affectivity of this, however, are _real_, taking form of the said author at the start of the disclaimer sec, the quotes and lines from various magnificent people and of course, heavens, the music.

Without those, these are all nonexistent.

And with all my heart and soul, the gratitude I feel for my readers is just unearthly. You're all rockstars!

_R&R!_ That is all I can ask. :*

**~xXx~**

**the unwanted and i/**

**intro/**

_"Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while…_

_And she will be loved… And she will be loved…"_

**verse i/ annabeth/ monday, 07:20**

**waking up at the start**_ of the end of the world, But it's feeling just like every other morning before, Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone_, I hummed to myself as I drove towards school with my faded maroon Chevy. The air blew up my face, making my curls fly wildly. I folded and put my left arm over the car door, driving only with one hand around the wheel. If Athena was here, she'd scold me. Anyway, she wasn't here, so…

I bit my tongue to keep the urge of singing loudly along with _MatchBox20_. I wasn't so into this band but this song's cool. For me, anyway. A lot of people couldn't appreciate my sense of style in music and fashion_. I don't care; they don't know me._

_I believe the world is burning to the ground_

_Oh well I guess we're gonna find out_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Well I believe it all is coming to an end_

_Oh well, I guess, we're gonna pretend,_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Let's see how far we'v—_

A very unpleasant noise banged up nearby, approaching. It came from a blue convertible with the roof up, speeding along the avenue. When it came hood to hood with my truck, it slowed down so we were side by side. The convertible was on my left so the passenger window was on my view.

I thought my Monday morning was going to be great; it started of course with the wonderful breakfast in courtesy of Emma. Emma makes good waffles. Then Athena gave me my new credit card since I lost the last one last week (I know, I know). What never in my mind would pass by was the thought that my morning could be ruined by a brown-haired guy who looked like he had just taken pot this morning. Maybe he had.

He was singing raucously the song beating from their car's stereo. I didn't even know what the song is. I just knew it sucks because it has a lot of wailing and drum banging. It was what Athena would call, "hell music". I had listened to some songs like these, yes. I actually liked some.

But this one? I just grimaced. _Forget it._

By the way, what made matters worse was that the guy was leaning over the door of the convertible. He was like singing the song to _me_ while flinging his hands wildly in that supposed-to-be-cool-and-gangly-manner. But to him, it didn't look that way. Positively had taken pot, yeah. Absolutely.

I glanced sideways, scowling. Their music was so loud it made my ears vibrate. I put on more gas to get away but they seemed to be toying me because the driver put on more gas, too to keep us still in the same level. I couldn't accelerate more. I would admit I am very cautious with driving. I didn't know, maybe it came to the fact that my Dad—

The guy in the passenger seat laughed and whooped. Gosh, what a morning.

"Hey! Hey—girl! The blonde!"

I gritted my teeth.

"Hey! Blondie—the dork with the eyeglasses, yeah!"

_The best way to respond to a fool is to keep silent_, that was what I always say. But I can't pretend that I am not pissed off right now because they seemed to be playing with me around because of my looks.

I have a mess of curly blonde hair, past my shoulder blades, now flying wildly around my face. Like what the brown-haired guy said, I wear glasses. Black rectangular-shaped spectacles which are a little over-sized so it dominates my face a little bit. I also wear dental braces so, yeah. You can call me a geek. Like, a nerd. That is who I am, anyway, so I admit it fully. I _am_ a nerd.

I am built slim. But my best friend always says that I 'unflatter' my body by wearing too much t-shirts and loose dresses.

Also, I am tan. Maybe that's the only great thing in me, though. That I am tan. And that was only because we lived in Cali for fourteen years. It was just the start of my second year here in New York.

My nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by the shout again.

"Hey! Girl—girl! Yoo—hoo! You also goin' to school?! That's cool!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hah! Percy! I think this chic's in Goode, too!"

I glared at them. The brown-haired guy was grinning like a lunatic. The driver, Percy, who is a guy with black hair, was smoking while driving.

I wanna take the risks of speeding over. But before I could hit the gas more, the convertible shot forward.

"Bye, baby! I love yah!" waved the brown-haired guy.

I sighed inwardly. _What a morning._

**verse ii/ annabeth/ monday, 07:35**

_**the guy was right, for **_one thing. I was also in Goode High, which was great even if I considered those jerks are in the same school as mine because, Goode is big. Every day, new faces. Though, I got a couple of friends, my cafeteria crowd, considering I was ironically lucky I was a nobody.

But I knew those guys, of course. The ones in the blue convertible just a while ago.

That's Percy Jackson, the one who was driving. And the one who looked high was Connor Stoll, one of his friends. He's got a brother named Travis who was in the Drummers' Troop, too, like me.

I never liked Percy Jackson & Co. that much but I never hated them, too. I didn't know. It just seemed right our paths were never intersecting. They were the ones who were always there in the Friday night parties. Partying. Smoking. Taking pot. And God knows what else.

Of course that could be great. I meant, the parties. But too much of something good isn't healthy.

Still twenty five minutes before the bell. I sat at the bench at the side of the car park and took my iPad out and started rereading where I left _The Fault in Our Stars_ by John Green. Just to kill time, you know.

I would've brought the physical book with me bit it was hard hardbound so I just chose to read through my iPad even it kills my eyesight more.

I also plugged in my ear-buds to block out the noise. I know most people can't concentrate while there's music around. But I am different. I could read more intently when there was more music around.

_The marks human leave are too often scars_, says John Green here. I smiled sadly at the thought. John Green is my favorite author. I don't know why but I can always understand and relate to all his point and views. And most of these are just real and true.

_Scars._ I didn't want to make my mark here on Earth as a scar. I didn't want to be the one who'll receive the mark of a scar from someone.

I didn't want to be hurt or to feel pain. I didn't want to feel sad and confused. Mad and hopeless.

I supposed, all of us wanted to avoid these negative things, too. But I know life, dear friends. And life is always real.

You may feel pain and misery from time to time but that's it; that's how we would know that happiness is always there—just after the pain. Just after the cries and failures.

You cannot smile if you don't know how to cry. That's a rule of life.

I sighed.

I guessed I was a philosophical and introspective person. I got that personality from my Dad. He was a History professor in college back in California. My number one best friend and my most favorite person in the whole wide world.

Also, he's dead.

I knew I was a Daddy's girl and his absence right now for almost two years is his mark he left on Earth. A scar.

I knew he didn't want me to see it that way but what would I do? He's gone; he'll never come back.

He always used to say that he would like to see me make my marks. He was always the one who believed in my talent the most. My number one fan. My best supporter.

_C'mere, little Miss Architect, what did you build with these Legos?_

_It's a bridge, Daddy! A bridge!_

_Oho! A bridge! Wonderful! I know you'll do great someday, Ms. Chase! You'll be a successful, magnificent Architect like Mommy here! You'll be the greatest of them all, young lady!_

But it was sad to realize that he'll never see me make my mark here anymore. He'll be far away, from a distance. A million miles of gap between us that I wouldn't be able to build a bridge for, just to enclose.

I wiped my iPad screen with the sleeves of my sweater to dry the tears which had fallen.

I told you, I was a Daddy's girl.

I looked up and scan the lot. Where was that girl? Was she late again? It's the first day of our second year in High School. She's supposed to be that considerate. Oh, well…

I got up to leave to head for Government. We already had our schedules before classes started; that's how it works in Goode.

I'd be in Bldg. C in my first subject. As I walked across the lot, I passed by a blue convertible. _The_ blue convertible. Two figures were by the side of it, talking.

"I told you, it's nothing. Look, I'm going to be late, Percy. I'll talk to you this lunch,"

"Cal—we're not done talking—"

"Can you please just shut up? I told you we'll talk later—"

I ignored them, as usual. The lovers' spat between Percy Jackson and his Cheer Captain girlfriend, Cal McKinley.

I used to look up at that girl, Cal. But it was good I early learned on the second week of my first year High School that she has the attitude. I supposed not all cheerleaders go that way as stated in most of the chick flick stories I knew. But my life is real, as I said, and popularity really bends and changes you.

So, Cal's not a good girl, then. A bitch, if you will. I really couldn't fathom how guys like girls like that. I could understand the looks and popularity but the hell with the attitude, the character.

I knew I didn't know much about Cal aside from the fact that she speaks in a British accent—silencing _r_'s and all, because she grew up in London—and she's a one hot cheerleader, that's true. But if I would judge, she's very very very very very… Well, mean.

I supposed if you were popular, you must also get a popular boyfriend or girlfriend. I didn't know what I'm saying, I'm sorry. I may know a lot of things about these and those but Romantic Relationships 101 wasn't my specialty. I didn't even have a boyfriend ever. So, that made sense.

Actually, I was planning to avoid it in High School. I knew without warning that flings and romances were just distractions. But since no one had attempted and dared to ask me out yet, I thought I might not have to avoid. They're smart enough to see a girl with frizzy curls, geek glasses and dental braces as a big signage saying: _OFF LIMITS_.

Going straight towards Bldg. C and heading to my room, I still arrived before Mrs. Fad. But not before—

"Annabeth!" greeted my girl best friend here in school. Rachel.

"How come you are here first?" I squeaked, sitting on the chair beside her. The rows of chairs are by two's—with one big desk to share with.

"Sorry. I arrived just when the bell rang so I went straight here. I didn't know I'll get here before you,"

"Yes, yes,"

"So, how's it?"

I pursed my lips, hiding a smile. The teacher has arrived and was now talking some introductory speech.

"It's almost done!" I gushed.

"Really?" she asked, wide-eyed. "You're a suicide,"

I stifled a giggle.

We were talking about my new architectural draft. We just saw that poster plastered on some wall of the school just last week when we got our schedules. It said that Goode High would have a representative in the IGCC—Imperial Gold Communities Corp.—Architectural Competition _this_ spring.

Art Club will be waiting for entries until October 31st and they will judge the blueprints until December. On January, the representative will be announced.

Gosh. I would like to be chosen. That's why I started my first draft way before the classes started. And yeah, it was almost done. But I think I'll have to do some more designs just to make sure I will submit my best. This could be my break. Like, the start of _my_ era. Right?

While the teacher talked, Rachel and I were chatting. We're good at that, and I can't stand not talking to her. She's my best friend, the one who can understand me the most, since we're in the same club—Art Club. I mean, we're both artists. She's best at painting—acrylic, brushes, canvas and all. Also in sculpting and craftsmanship. I am best in sketching and drafting—Architect Chase, remember?

Also, she's prettier than me. Uh, she's pretty. Period. No comparison.

I liked the way her red locks shine along with her freckles. Some says she's trying hard to stand out but I don't think so. She's a natural. They just don't really see the best of things.

Even she's quite a nagger and all, I loved Rachel. She's always the one who liked to procrastinate without a plan. To reason deductively. To fill in the gaps through sheer luck. And I am the only one who has a plan, thank you very much.

That's why she's my best friend. I love her.

"Oh, God, have you seen Percy today? I swear he grew taller over the summer!"

"Yeah, I kinda… heard him arguing with McKinley on the car park just earlier."

"Really?" Rachel asked, smiling brightly.

I forgot to mention. Rachel is _in love_ with Jackson. I always thought it was ridiculous, seeing he didn't even know we exist. Rachel used to have a crush on Luke Castellan. Then she learned_ I_ have a crush on him. So, yeah… She switched ways.

"Girls at the back… can you _please_ pay attention?" drawled Mrs. Fad.

I stifled another giggle.

**verse iii/ annabeth/ monday, 12:13**

_**my day was slow.**_

I really needed to relax. I was itching to finish my draft at home. I was feeling anxious as I walk up to our cafeteria table, carrying a tray of apple, milk and a sandwich.

Our table was almost full.

I was really glad my friends didn't change that much over the summer. Piper McLean's still wonderful. She's this girl who likes to trim her hair by herself, every month, with a Garfield scissors. I guessed she wants to downplay her looks but you can always tell it's not working. One look in her kaleidoscopic eyes then you're lost.

Even Piper doesn't even know her own distinct eye color; it just changes every second. Or sometimes, it just depends if it's either the sun or the moon her eyes are reflecting. You know what I mean?

She's dating a guy named Jason. He's in the football team, I guessed.

Hazel Levesque (I love her surname; it sounded cool) is the youngest. She has chocolate skin and pretty brown curls that blends with her amber eyes. I don't know why my friends got all the mesmerizing-eyes-glory.

What I meant to say was, I'm contented with my look, but I don't know why they're always mistaking my grey eyes with blue. And then, that's just it; I'm the stereotypical Californian. I _know_ I am really from Cali but hey, I'm not the dumb-giggly type. I wasn't even sure where that idea came from! I mean, can everybody stop judging and discriminating people just because of their looks? It's unfair.

Anyway, there's also Frank Zhang, our Asian friend. He's shy. I don't know why. There's nothing to be shy of. It's just us. And then, there's Leo Valdez. He's the clown here. The one who can make us all laugh out loud, even me. I'm not the happy-giddy type; I am usually a sad, sad person. I mean, I'm introverted and withdrawn, so it's either I like you or you are such a nice or funny person if I laugh at you—not in the mean way.

There's also Silena Beauregard, Piper's step sis. She's a senior, and is dating Charles Beckendorf, also a senior. I was very glad they mingle with us, sophomores. So yeah, Charlie's African-American. He's my sort of big brother here in school, aside from Butch. Butch is in my Drummers' Troop.

Then there's Rachel, of course... And then, Juni, our environmentalist. She wants to be one someday, I mean. Juni is having a fling with a guy whose name starts with letter G. George? Greg? Whatever. But he's on the swim team. Oh, I remember. I think he's named Grover.

"How's class?" Piper asked, getting my apple.

"As usual," I say. "How's life? Love?"

"Oh, yeah. That." Piper's face fell.

_Oh. Sore point. Did I hit a nerve?_

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she glanced a bit at the back.

_Definitely a sore point._

"How's Jason and you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "'Kay,"

"''Kay'?"

She nodded sullenly, "'Kay,"

"Not that obvious, huh," I raised an eyebrow.

Then Silena piped in, "They had a row,"

"You had?" I asked, confirming.

Piper sighed, "Yeah, yeah,"

"Well, then. Fix it up,"

"It's not that easy, Miss Optimistic,"

"Sure, it is,"

She sighed, "You're just saying that cuz you don't have a boyfriend yet. Wait. Do you have one already?"

"Nah," I smiled. "No one,"

"Still in love with your blue prints, huh," Silena mocked.

"I know!" I said, laughing.

"No—Annabeth, seriously.—" Piper took off my glasses—"You should go out. With someone."

I blinked with the sudden blurriness. "Huh," I took my glasses back.

"Y'know," Silena said, "You're a cutie,"

I snorted.

"Really!" she said, "When will you take your braces off?"

I thought about that for a while. "Next month,"

"Hallelujah!" Piper exclaimed, "And when will you wear contacts?"

"I don't know…Next…" my voice trailed off as I caught something in my peripheral vision. Well… someone.

Silena giggled. "He's not dating anyone now,"

"What?"

"Luke's not dat—"

I scowled.

"Just ask him out! You're a cutie! And—'you're a strong independent woman,'" She said, quoting someone from a movie she loved. "Just try to be friendly and, uh, you know, flirty." She added with a wink.

"Silena, you know I couldn't afford to have those flings right now. It's my competition and those are just distractions,"

"_Your_ competition, huh," she sipped her soda. They also knew about the competition. "I like the teen spirit. Anyway, you're just saying that cuz you haven't been in love,"

I rolled my eyes.

"I would want to see you fall in love, Annabeth Chase," Silena mused.

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound like someone I read,"

"Really? Is that cool? It is, right?"

"I suppose so," I smiled.

They laughed and I joined in.

I was talking and laughing with them the rest of the hour. But the truth was, my mind was stuck in something Silena had said.

_I would want to see you fall in love, Annabeth Chase._

My eyes fell almost unconsciously at the table far away, just across the cafeteria. And as I watched him laugh at a joke probably told by one of his buddies, I couldn't help but hope a bit. But somehow, I found myself really wondering.

Hearts were fragile, that's what I've always thought.

And I didn't want to receive yet a scar.

**END OF FIRST SET**

* * *

_She Will be Loved_ (C) Maroon 5

_How Far We've Come_ (C) MatchBox20 — **_y outu b e wat ch? v=w TWOAJJ 9s1 g_**

_The Fault in Our Stars_ (C) John Green

* * *

_**A/N:**_ To my readers of The Lost Daughter of Athena, specifically: I am awful sorry for the long wait. Chapters 19 and 20 got corrupted. And I got no back up file. I KNOW! It sucks! Well, that's life. And please be patient while I re-write the two chapters again, thank you very much :*

And to my _new_ readers: thank you thank you thank you! (Three_ thank you_'s, mind you)

Please, _review_ :) And DFTBA!

xoxoxo, MJ


	2. intro: verses 4-9

**the unwanted and i/**

**intro/**

_"Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world... She took the midnight train goin' anywhere._

_Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit... He took the midnight train goin' anywhere."_

**verse iv/ annabeth/ wednesday, 07:35**

_**you know, chase, I seriously**_ can't believe you. You got your Mom with a fat lot of money and you can't buy a new truck? How ridiculous is that?" I can feel Rachel's annoyance seeping through the phone.

"Look, Rachel, it's not my fault Meredith got busted in the morning. And no, I'm not buying a new truck, thank you very much." I can't buy a new truck. I won't buy a new truck. I love Meredith. I was driving this magnificent truck for a year now and I can't just buy new. Not that it has some sentimental value but it _really_ has sentimental value. I don't know. Doesn't make any sense but I really won't buy a new truck.

"What about your Mom?"

"She already left, fifteen minutes ago." Athena is an Architect. Yeah, I know. It's in the blood. She's working in a prestigious Architectural Company—Olympus City of the North Corp.

"Ugh, Chase,"

"So, what, are you going to come and get me or I'm going to hate you?"

"You can't hate me' I'm gonna get you." She hung up.

Rachel isn't the typical friend. If her views would be questioned, I think she'll answer that she's just promoting "strength of character". And I like that. I mean, you didn't have to be sympathizing, soothing and totally caring to be a good friend. All you have to do was to be yourself. And that's what Rachel was.

And I would like to point out that she is a Dare. I mean, her surname's Dare. Like, Dare Corp. Uh-huh. Got to the same conclusion? Well, I couldn't believe it at first because, why were you studying in a public High School if your 'rents can send you to a perfect finishing school? Like in Connecticut? I swear they have girly dress codes there.

In my case, anyway, Athena really did send me to a public school in New York for the reasons of 1. She wants me to interact socially with the normal crowd. 2. New York is where her job is. And 3. She doesn't want to send me to a boarding school somewhere till I'm freaking college.

I could also go to a great finishing school. I guess a good percent of the kids in Goode also can. But there was a reason why kids just stay.

Rachel's car honked and I got up the kitchen stool to leave. "Bye, Em!" I shouted over my shoulder.

"Be careful, Annabeth, dear!"

"Yeah, thank you!"

I hop in Rachel's BMW. "Thank you so much— what's that smell?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Oh. Um." Rachel started to drive. "Evans was here last night. I think that's his perfume you're smelling. Which reeks. He sucks."

I raised my eyebrow, "Evans, as in Evans Hank?"

She scowled, "No, silly. Jimmy Evans."

I gasped, "That _dude_? I mean. Gosh. He's on the swim team!"

"I KNOW RIGHT!" she grins, "He's hot and all but," her face contorted, "As I always say, my dear, you cannot get a girl's heart if your perfume reeks."

I wrinkled my nose more, "Gosh." I said again. "You're a bitch,"

"Noted, thank you." Rachel grinned as she drove all the way.

**verse v/ percy/ wednesday, 07:30**

_**mom! where's my car**_?!" I shouted as I got to our garage—empty.

"Oh, honey," Mom came barreling, "You said you left it at the auto shop yesterday!" her voice was confused., questioning.

I practically whined, "Did I? Than where's Paul?"

"Oh, Percy, he just left. You were still sleeping, and he can't be late, too!"

"Great." I said, nodding. "Great day."

"I'm sorry, honey."

"No, Mom. It's—it's okay. I was the idiot. I can't believe I forgot."

"Who's going to pick you up?"

I called Grover; he must pick me up.

"Hey," I said, "My car's in the auto shop, pick me up,"

"Sorry, Percy," he sounded sorry, though. "I was already here at school,"

"Oh, great. Right." I hung up. "No one," I said to my Mom who was looking concerned. "I'll take the bus this morning,"

"Are you sure?" she asked, "Percy… are you okay?"

Obviously, my Mom has sensed there something off. "Yeah, Mom." I said as I kissed her cheek. "I'm okay," I got outside the house.

I couldn't believe how idiot I was. I guessed I was high enough yesterday to not remember I left my car in the auto shop. Good thing I wasn't that high to ditch school today. I was really going to school today. Nothing's gonna happen to me when was home so I better go somewhere else.

Her words were still fresh right inside. I couldn't believe I didn't remember my car but I did remember her. What the fucking world is this?

_Look, it's just… I need space, okay? I need space._

_Space? What do you mean space?_

_Percy. Are. You. So. Dumb? I am trying hard to make it easy for you and you just won't let go!_

_No,_ My voice was constricted. _I mean, why?_

She just rolled her eyes, as if the whole affair was a fair big joke. Well, not to me. But it was, for her. _Let's just accept it's not going to work. You like me. Sure. But I don't like you anymore. There. You're really pushing me. So, there. The end._

_Hey. Don't do this. You can't._

_Actually, I finally did._

_Who is it? Who is him?_

She didn't even glance back._ Oh, they are _many_. I couldn't possibly name them all. Could I?_

Of course Calypso McKinley left me broken-hearted. If truth be told, I'll admit I smoked and got drunk and drugged myself last night because of her—just to cover the pain. It hurt a lot, of course. I loved Cal. Even if she wasn't the perfect angel you'll want, Calypso was really easy to fall in love with. I couldn't help to wreck myself because of her absence.

The whole campus would eventually know. But I hoped when the news spread, I had already moved on. I hoped, so. But it seemed impossible.

I mean, I am Percy Jackson. Everybody loves me. I just couldn't show them my weakness is a girl named Cal McKinley. No one can see me broken. No one.

Even my friends—I mean friend. I got only two real friends—Grover and Cal. And now Cal wasn't on the list anymore…

The morning was beautiful. Insultingly beautiful. It seemed mocking me. Even some people inside the bus were cheerful enough to greet me a good morning. And then I glared and they backed off.

I reached school right when the bell rang. I have to hitch a ride with Grover this afternoon, after class.

And I really did miss her today… And I can't… _Stop._ Fucking stop, Jackson. You're ruining yourself.

I smirked. I was born ruined.

I'm a self-made wreckage. My life was just hopeless. But the whole damage were all inside. Invisible. No one sees it, the reality. Just myself.

Everybody thought I am one of those who has the grandest life—one of the jocks (except I already quit). The coolest. The hottest. Mr. Popular.

I didn't know. Looks can be deceiving, they said, and that was really true, when you based on me.

All I wanted is to find a sense of meaning. My purpose. Once I thought that that was in the path of smoking and pot. Of being cool and on the top. Then I realized, no, you're just wasting your time. Then, too late, I was already waist-deep in in my own wreckage debris to get up. I'm a shallow, hollowed person. Just a pretty face.

Maybe that's why I fell in love with Calypso in the first place even if I knew she's all wrong to me. I can't believe I was _that_ broken.

Parties. Every Friday. Great, I'm always present. I can't count how many houses we've crashed in since the beginning of my freshman year here in Goode. And now I was graduating, I still haven't changed. Like I said, I knew I was hopeless.

I just wished my poor Mom wouldn't know. Paul knew obviously. He's a teacher in Goode which is a total bullshit. I think he hoped I would be able to fix myself up right before I graduate. Maybe that's why he's not telling Mom how evil her son was, because he thinks I wasn't that hopeless.

Boy, he's wrong.

My mom didn't deserve a son like me. Hell, I knew that. I really knew that. I was too much of a waste and a dickhead to deserve a mother like her.

But I loved my Mom, really. She's one of the greatest women in my life.

I smirked as I headed for BioChem.

Third day of the senior year and my heart was bleeding. Because of a girl.

How cruel was that?

**verse vi/ annabeth/ wednesday, 16:07**

_**i stared at the poster.**_

**WHO: Virtuosic Sketch Artists and Painters**

**WHAT: Sketching and Painting Contest**

**WHEN: 22 Oct 20XX**

**WHERE: Goode High School**

**MORE DETAILS / HOW TO JOIN: Register at the**

**school faculty. Look for Mr. Paul Blofis.**

**Accepting entries until 30 Sept 20XX**

Hmmm… I needed to find Rachel. She needed to know about this. It's been a while since she joined a painting contest. Honestly, I wanted to join to but I figured I would concentrate on my _own_ Architectural contest.

My urinary bladder started to tell me I needed to go to the comfort room now. So I decided to go before I find Rachel to hitch a ride again back home.

As I made my way out the second stall, I realized there were voices. Strangely familiar voices coming just outside my stall.

"Wha—wait—uh—_Ethan_—wait—"

I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was sure as hell about what's going on the other side of the door, just hearing the moaning and gasps and—you know, let's not make myself describe it okay?—I obviously can't walk on them saying _excuse me_… What am I—

I flushed the toilet. They stopped. I waited. Then after a few seconds, I got out the stall, poker-faced. I hope my face wasn't as red as—double take—Cal McKinley.

I stared at her on the mirror.

"What?" she snapped.

I continued to stare.

"Are you going out or not?"

I went outside. Not saying a word. Not glancing back.

I sighed, shaking my head. I knew that I still didn't know a lot of things. But I was sure that "Ethan" isn't Jackson's first name.

Not that I cared but, I kinda feel sorry for him. I wished, at least, they have broken up now. I mean, before _that_, so that Cal wasn't like, cheating.

Nonetheless… it's still… not right.

**verse vii/ annabeth/ wednesday, 16:15**

_**rachel, where are you, girl**_?!" I asked her in the phone. Gosh. Please don't let it become what I was thinking.

I just got here in the car park to see her—gone. Just gone.

"Hey, Annie, look, I am so sorry I wasn't able to text or call you. I rushed home from sixth period. It's an emergency. The maid just called me saying Donut is lost—"

"Donut—who the crap is Donut—?"

"DONUT! You don't know Donut?! How can you be my best freaking friend?!" she screeched on the phone, "Donut is my cat, Annie! And she's lost! And I can't find her everywhere! And I think she must've gone out through the window! Through the terrace! I can't believe how far she had jumped but—"

"WAIT. Your cat is Donut."

"YES!"

"She's lost?"

"Yeah.," she whines.

"And you left me. Because. Of. Her."

"I love you, Annabeth, I'm glad you understand,"

"Rachel—how am I—I mean—they're all gone here! All of them! Piper and Silena got cheer dance practice! The drummers aren't starting practice till this Saturday! The guys—Leo—they're all gone—and I need to—I really need to go home now—I need to finish my draft—_Rachel!_"

"Look, I—" she gasped, "I think they must've found her! GTG! Buh-bye! I'll talk to you later!"

She already hung up.

**verse viii/ percy/ wednesday 16:13**

_**dude, it's not yet friday. **_But you're freaking drunk again like yesterday!" Grover said as I drink my beer.

Okay. I know I said I would be schooling today, no ditching. But when I saw her at school earlier, I realized I still can't bear it. It was still fresh.

What did I do? I ditched classes. I even dragged Grover and Luke here, along (I knew I am a bad influence). And smoke and drink and smoke and drink from lunch till now. We were at an abandoned house just four blocks away from the school. This became our hideout, this house. No one ever wanted to claim it, I don't know why. Maybe because the interior is really creepy. Even before we crashed this place, this house looked pretty haunted and lonely.

I am Percy Jackson. I have no stupid girlfriend. I have no car. What a poor bastard.

I guessed I deserved this. But is this okay with me?

I said I deserved this, not that I am okay with it, though.

Huh. I was thinking nonsense and incoherently now, wasn't I?

"Percy… c'mon, dude, we'll drive you home," Grover pleaded, "School's over. Your Mom will be worried—"

"Hell with that," I said, " 'Tis not the first time I'll ever go home late," I paused. "Or will not go home at all," I snickered.

I guess I was making them worried, too, my friends. I wasn't sure about Luke, I didn't know him that much.

"Percy—c'mon—" Grover tries to carry me, draping my arm over his shoulder but I pushed him away.

"GO—AWAY—" I shouted, "You're not—I CAN GO HOME ALONE—"

"Percy—"

"BULLSHIT—I said I can go home alone—"

It's true; maybe I'm that drunk but I supposed heavens gave me the gift of thinking clearly even intoxicated. With this behavior, I was reassuring you, I was just being a bastard.

"Dude—" Grover said again—

"Grover. Let him be." It's Luke. Huh. I didn't know much about the guy for our three years of acquaintance but I feel grateful for him this time for trying to understand. I just wished he was trying to be helpful. Not the other way around. "He needs time alone,"

"Luke—he's drunk! The bastard will die in the streets—"

I laughed. "Hah! Lem'me die! Bitches all over the world!" I swear, with my shout, I was like a lunatic. I didn't even know what the hell I was saying. Did I really just said that?

They let me go, eventually. And somehow, I found myself walking (straight, mind you) with my head hanging, towards the subway station, heading home.

**verse ix/ annabeth/ wednesday, 16:26**

_**second year high school**_. Third day. First week. My best friend was being so nice to me. And I would want to mention that this wasn't the stupidest thing she ever has done to me. But never mind those other things.

I didn't even know she has a cat! Much of a cat named "Donut".

I stared at the yellow lane on the floor. 1, 2, 3, 4. 10. 16. 18. 24. 27. 27 tiles to the left. 6, 10, 18. 18 tiles to the right.

Ugh. I was contemplating whether it was a good idea that I took the subway today. It's not my first time to use the train; it's just that I felt so enclosed when I was here. It was really dim and oppressing.

Five minutes before the next train.

Suddenly, an old lady came and stood beside me, waiting for the train, too. For a moment, there was only silence. Then she said, "You have a very beautiful pair of eyes,"

I blinked. Surely she's not talking to me? I looked down at the old Granny.

"Sorry?" I asked her kindly.

"Your eyes, dear," she said, "they are lovely. Grey. Like the thunderstorm. You are very fierce. And very different. You have a luminous mind and soul. You are also sad and poignant."

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. Granny smiled at me then stares ahead quietly, waiting for the train, like nothing happened. It's like she didn't talk in the first place. Creepy.

I scowled but I let the matter passed. I stared down.

Suddenly, a dimmer shadow appeared just on my right. Granny was on the left.

I wrinkled my nose. I smelled alcohol. Or beer. Or—

I stared at the one on my right.

"What?" he asked.

I realized I was staring too long. I blinked and looked down. Scowling, I looked at him again just to be sure.

"D'you know me?" he asked.

I hesitated. But before I could say a response—

"Huh. Of course you know me. You're in Goode, too, I suppose?"

I raised my eyebrows as an arrogant yes then I looked down, back at the yellow lane to continue counting the tiles from where we were standing. Without meaning to, I had memorized this spot.

What was he doing here, anyway? In a subway? Seriously? I mean, what happened to his convertible? I also happened to realized the alcohol smell was him. He's drunk. Gods. How did he even pass the security? I was suddenly nervous. I don't hate people who drink alcohol in general. But I don't like the behaviors of them when they're already swimming unconscious in their own trance. They were likely to—

"What are you doin' here?" he asked.

I looked up. "What?" I knew I shouldn't have answered him but I answered him anyway.

"Your momma won't pick you up?"

"My truck's busted,"

He raised his eyebrows, "Mine, too,"

I nodded and stared ahead. Where was the train?

I glanced at the time. Five minutes have passed _already._

"What's your name?"

I looked at him directly. His eyes were bloodshot. Then I remembered the scenario I happened to get myself into before I left school. A surge of guilt flooded through me. I don't know why.

"Annabeth Chase," I said to him boldly.

"You're junior?"

"Sophomore,"

He cocked his head, "You don't look like it. You seemed more mature. Intelligent."

I bit my tongue. "So?"

"You're like a junior," he said, "Or senior. Beyond your years,"

"Thank you," I noted the sarcasm, thank you very much.

"It's a compliment,"

I stared at him, "Where are your friends?"

He laughed.

"I mean, your minions. If you don't treat them as friends."

He stopped. "That was mean." he said, then smiled, "I do have a friend. And he's _really_ a friend. He's not here, the moron. But y'know, mostly—" he leaned down to my face, "I walk alone,"

I could smell his breath. Alcohol and cigarettes and something sweet combined altogether. I didn't know. I didn't move. We were having a staring contest. He leaned more closely. Our noses are now very close to each other—

Then he muttered, "Too young," before pulling back.

I didn't understand what he meant so I scowled.

Also, I realized his words were all slurred. His eyes, aside from being bloodshot, were deep. His irises, I mean. Intense. Sea-green.

A few moments of silence before the train came. We were both standing.

I looked around to see Granny but I couldn't see her. Hopefully, someone managed to let her sit.

"You're kinda familiar," he said.

"Now that's a compliment. I'm not usually noticed,"

"Why not?"

"Oh," I shrugged, "I do not know." Then I said, "Why are you here alone? You're a bit intoxicated," I cursed myself.

His head slowly turned on me, "Obvious, isn't it?" I couldn't tell if he was angry or just pissed off by what I had said. I didn't answer,

"Cal and I split," he said, "You know McKinley, for sure?"

I nodded.

"She's a bitch," he offered.

"Sure," I stifled a grin.

"Tomorrow, that's the news.

"Yeah, and that's why you're drunk. Because you guys broke up."

A long silence. "Yeah," he finally said.

Then, abruptly—the train just—stopped. Emergency break. We were not yet in a station.

I almost fell over but he quickly grabbed me by the waist. And held me to prevent me from falling and humiliation.

"Th-thank you," I stuttered. I hope my face wasn't so red. I could feel his fingers on my skin like there's no fabric there.

He let go, "Be careful,"

I nodded.

"Hey, no need to be that formal," he laughed, "It's okay,"

The train lurches again. Someone on the speaker apologized for the sudden break.

I wanted to read with my iPad. But I was with someone else so that would be rude. It would be like, unfair to him.

I noticed he was staring at me, I stared back.

"You're not that bad, actually." He said.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, confused.

"You're not that bad and unnoticeable."

"Oh," I was still confused.

"If not with the, you know, nerd aura, you could've been _hot_,"

I blushed a horrible tomato red.

"I'm not flirting. I'm just bold when I'm drunk. I say what is directly in my mind. No filters; those were for cigarettes."

"I understand,"

He smirked, "You ever have sports?"

I shook my head no.

"Well, I had. Before."

I looked at him, not sure what to really say. He, quitting at the swimming and football team at the start of sem last year had created a major apocalypse. He was one of the jocks in school, aside from Luke Castellan, and every girls squealed to death and insanity when Percy Jackson decided to quit his own game.

"Why did you quit?" I asked.

"Why did I quit…" he smirked. "I dunno. I guess I was tired with all the expectations. And I wanna play and swim _for_ life, you know…. Not just to _win,"_

I waited for more.

"Coach and everyone just liked me because I win. And I thought, I thought—what if I don't wanna be like this? What if, say, I quit because I feel like, like it's not playing for life anymore?

"Eventually, I quit. Cuz I didn't think straight back then, you know. But it still seemed reasonable to break it all off. And then that was the end of it." he paused. "Do you know what I mean?"

There was this silence between us. I knew what he meant. I really knew. I was drowning also in other people's expectations. And that sucks than a lot of things which suck in the world.

I didn't wanna break this silence. It felt normal but, I supposed I had to, if I would want to keep the ball rolling.

"D'you wanna come back?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah." Then he paused. "No, no. I mean, no. I dunno. Maybe if I gained purpose again, I will. But as for the moment, I am a man with the talent of wrecking his own life,"

"What about college? Are you going? What do you really want to be in the future?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'd be a rockstar. I'm in a band, you know."

I wasn't sure if he's serious with that but he started singing softly but a little slurred and I couldn't help laughing.

"_I really wanna love somebody… I really wanna dance the night away… I know we're only half way there… But you can take me all the way, you can take me all the way—_"

I giggled, "You've got a future, mister,"

He smiled, "Why, thank you," then it faded, "If you really want to know…"

I stopped laughing and looked at him.

"I want to be a marine engineer,"

I didn't let him see that I was _really_ surprised. "That's very…"

"Tough? Impossible?"

"Tough. Bold. But not impossible. You can do that. I know you can do that,"

He's silent for a moment, "I like your optimism, Wise Girl, you'd make a great girlfriend but no, I don't think I could do that,"

I looked away. I really wished my cheeks weren't that red. "You're just pessimistic,"

I couldn't believe how he hated himself. Of course he didn't note that but it was obvious. But you know… the truth was, he just couldn't see how smart he truly was. Maybe he's just a very self-destructive person. That explains the hate for his own life.

Next stop is the station I'd go down.

I realized he is a little nice. It's just sad to know that he was, after all, intoxicated at the moment. He probably won't remember me anymore with this entire small talk tomorrow morning when he woke up t the sound of his alarm, grabbing for Advil.

The train stopped. "It's my station," I smiled as a farewell. "Thank you, I guess."

"Hey—I didn't get the chance to intro—"

"I already know you—Percy Jackson."

The doors opened.

He smiled knowingly, "I'm glad I took the subway," he winked. "Bye,"

I blinked then smirked before I headed out.

When I was at the escalators, I looked back. I could still see his back on the glass doors.

"See you… maybe," I said quietly.

**END OF SECOND SET**

* * *

_Don't Stop Believing _(C) Glee_ (intro)_

_Love Somebody _(C) Maroon 5 _(verse 9)_

* * *

**_A/N: _**Sorry for some typographical errors and poor grammar usage. This is a rushed update. Please _review_, everyone. :*


	3. intro: verses 10-15

**the unwanted and i/**

**intro/**

_"This was the very first page, not where the story line ends… My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again._

_These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon…"_

**verse x/ percy/ sunday, 10:00**

**_if i told you i_ **had spent the next four days after Wednesday with a good enlightened heart, then I'd be lying. It's all because firstly, I still hadn't moved on with Cal. Secondly, I still missed her terribly. And thirdly, I still can't get a life.

I supposed my little talk and opening up with the sophomore in the subway helped—weight a little lessened. I liked that girl. I meant she seemed friendly and understanding. I hoped we can be better acquaintances.

It's good to open up, you see. More that you were drunk and just has the guts.

Problem was, I couldn't remember her name. And I didn't know if she would like to have me as an acquaintance—what more in really befriending me?

Anyway, today's Sunday. And I was at the streets of Manhattan., skateboarding. I wasn't drunk today; I guessed I was over with the intoxicated days, thankfully. If I could have just more time to move on…

"Percy!" a voice shouted.

"Hey!" I grinned as Grover idled his jeep, "Got my text, huh."

"Yeah. I think I'm just grateful we're finally getting you're auto. What took you so long? Man, I'm sick of you, hitching a ride."

I laughed.

"Hop on, then, dude," he said.

**verse xi/ annabeth/ sunday, 13:35**

**_again_**!" Dakota shouted as we practiced.

As you know, I was a drummer. Goode High School Yellow Tigers need some cheer team, too, and our cheer team is divided into three. Division one: the cheerleaders. They were, of course, the amazing stunt people.. the sizzling breath-takers of the game. Division two: The boosters. Well, uh, they were the "voice" of the game, almost literally. They lead the cheers and the waves, as they call it.

And us? We're the beating hearts of all. No drummers, no livid panic. Their hearts will bleed.

BOOM BOOM BOOM—

I was the only girl, yeah, in case you were wondering. Their "p_rrrrrrrrrr_incess" as Rachel called it.

Our practice, instead of being Saturday, was moved. Sometimes I really hate our unpredictable practice sched. It's really inconvenient sometimes to know that you have a surprise practice the next day, or the day after the next. Or… you got my point, right? But then, Dakota was our Captain; he's very moody _and_ unpredictable, believe me.

So, it was Sunday afternoon today. I know, I know. Practice? School? On Sunday? That was my thought at first. But I have to bear with it; I love being a drummer.

And we didn't practice that often. If Dakota was being steady, our practices were usually every Wednesdays and Saturdays.

The sound of our new drill was fantastic. I mean, sure, Dakota is a jerk sometimes but he's really a good captain. Not strict; not loose. Just fine. Most of my teammates belong in a band except me. I supposed I can so it since I have talent. But it never occurred to me to get into live band. Someday, maybe.

My heart belongs somewhere else… in a place of bookshelves and blueprints… Well, and _coffee_.

"Okay, everyone, nice improvement, let's have a break for a moment then we'll give it our last shot then we're off!"

I grabbed my Gatorade.

"Girl," Butch came over. As you knew, he was my friend. He's this well-muscled guy in his third year but he got held up a year so he was supposed to be in his fourth. You'd think he's scary-looking, very frightening and intimidating but trust me; I am _way_ more intimidating than him. He's calm and cool and just nice. Like Beckendorf and my other guy friends. "I swear your arms must be like this," he held up his biceps.

"Ew, no. I'm still a girl,"

He laughed, "Well, that isn't a problem, is it? Look at your arms—they're just_—lean,"_

I scowled.

"I mean, they are muscled. But they must have been bulky. Cuz, dude. You do drums."

"Butch." I said, "Not everyone got your genes, " I rolled my eyes.

He laughed again, ruffling my hair.

"Watch it!" I giggled.

""Say, Annie, you already got a boyfriend?"

I wrinkled my nose, "No, why?"

"You must. Cuz you see that guy—see that—see that—"

He pointed a scrawny-looking kid who's in the bigger set of drums (I do the smaller set, anyway.). "That's Octavian. And he _fancies_ you."

"_Fancies_? What are you, _Briton?"_

"I was serious,"

I looked at Octavian. Then Butch laughed again.

"What?" I asked.

"You're grimacing,"

Am I? God, I'm so mean. "Sorry," I muttered. "It's just—"

"I know, huh." He said, "That's why you need to go out with _someone_ else. So he won't bother you. I know how you feel with poor hearts, Annie. You're just sympathizing-ly hopeless."

I stared at him. "What?" I asked again.

His eyes fell on our other team mate. I followed his gaze.

"Is that Travis?" I asked, "Like, Travis—Connor's brother—_Stoll_?"

"He's pretty decent. Say he fancies you, too. See the way he will look—see that see that see that—" Travis's eyes found mine and he smiled and waved a little. Of course I smiled back—"I told you," Butch whispered.

Travis walked away. "Butch—it's not—"

"See, Annie, between Octavvy and Travvy, I'll choose the latter. I don't like that Octavian dude. Bad vibes."

I sighed, "Butch, you might be a match maker," —a terrible one, at least— "But really, I don't wanna head on flings right now,"

He raised his eyebrows, "Why not?"

I stared at him, "Because. I don't. Like. It." I said. "I don't like him. I don't like them. I don't wanna be mean—"

"You're not mean,"

"—but it just doesn't feel right. And besides, I like someone else," I was thinking about Luke, actually. Who else?

He snorted. "Castellan, you mean?"

My mouth contorted.

"Well, then," he sighed, "I hope he likes you, Annie, but he doesn't even know you exist."

Ouch, Butch. Well phrased.

"Okay, guys—" Dakota shouted, "Back to positions, please, so we can all go home! Dammit, I'm starving…"

I looked at Butch mouthing, "Forget it," then got back to my position.

**verse xii/ annabeth/ sunday, 14:20**

**i'm home**!" I shouted as I made my way into the living room. Home again. I was glad to say I already retrieved my car. It feels good to have Meredith again.

I could smell patties from the kitchen so I made my way there, seeing the living room was empty.

"Hey, Em." I greeted Emma. Did I tell you I like Emma? She's like my aunt but not really.

"Hello, dear, how's practice?"

"Just okay," I said as I opened the fridge. I grabbed a Dutchmill.

Then that's when I saw the envelope. It was sitting on the kitchen table. Just there. I grabbed it and I realized that it was already open.

"Em, what's this?"

Emma looked and saw that I was holding the envelope, "Oh, dear. Your mother left it there,"

"Athena? But—it is for me—"I got the paper inside and saw the heading.

**Goldstein Academy**

**Chicago, Illinois, USA**

I abruptly folded it again, nervous. Emma was already finished with the patties and was staring at me, looking concerned.

"Had she read it?"

She nodded.

Now I really feel bad. I took the scholarship test in this school last summer. And my Mom wanted me to pass it. She said I could go into a boarding school only in Goldstein Academy in my third year high School.

I think, personally, that it would be good, passing the exam. Goldstein was a really pretty decent and great school but the thing was, the exam was hard. Pretty hard. But I really did my best. The problem that was remaining: we're afraid if I could get into the quota. Even if I passed, I have to make sure my score was high _enough_.

Ignoring all these worries, I read the letter.

**verse xiii/ percy/ monday, 07:15**

_**i drove my way familiarly**_ to school with my blue convertible. Thank heavens I already retrieved my car.

Then suddenly, I saw another car just just on my right side. A truck. I frowned as I got a glimpse of the driver. Her hair was flying all over her face so I couldn't see her clearly. I just felt odd when I saw the dark-colored rim of the spectacles she was wearing… and the tilt of her shoulders… and her elbows over the car door…

My phone rang.

"Hey," I said, then paused. "Yeah, I'm going to school today, don't be surprised…yeah, yeah, it's for real, idiot,"

I accelerated, leaving the truck behind.

**verse xiv/ annabeth/ monday, 14:31 **

_**It was really great to**_ have a best friend. Because at times when your Mom and you had a row just the other night, you can have someone to share some bitter talk with.

"So…what happened?" Rachel asked, "When your Mom saw you with the letter…?"

I sniffed. We're in front of my locker, Rachel and I. And I was just telling her how it turned out last night with the letter.

"Well, I got a percentage score of 88.45,"

Rachel stared at me, "Which was good, right? That _is_ high,"

"Eventually," I sighed, "it isn't," I leaned on my locker.

She scowled, "What? I mean, I can't even make an 82! So much for 88 point _something!_ What's the problem?"

"I didn't get in the quota. And to get in, my score should've been 1.55% points _higher."_

Rachel paled, "Oh, Annie," she said, "I am so sorry. I really am." She hugged me. Well… here it is…

Rachel knew how Athena was. My Mom's a perfectionist. Terror. She wasn't one before… But since the accident… she just got cold with me. And I couldn't say I didn't understand her. Because she has the right to be like that. After all…

Rachel pulled back, "Look, tell me more about it after classes okay? I know it's Monday but you can crash at home tonight. I'll introduce you to Donut, and we'll drink vodka and take pot,"

"We do _not_ take pot,"

"Whatevs," she kissed me on the cheek while hugging me once more, "You are so loved by me, Chase. Remember that."

I smiled weakly. "Cheers,"

"Cheers," she said, then she walked away.

I got my head inside the locker. It's not much of a comfort but at least no one can see my face. It was warm and smelled like rust and old paper—my paperbacks which had taken permanent residence here inside. Our lockers never change. Freshmen just filled up the lockers the seniors left behind—rotation.

Someone opened a locker beside me. Molly, I supposed. She was in my Art I last year. She shuffled things inside her own locker then she closed it immediately as I determinedly ignored her.

After a few seconds, I could still sense her beside me. I frowned then I pulled back to ask her—

_He_ was just standing there, scowling, staring at me. As if confused or has forgotten something he must not have. And then he directly saw my face and he registered a look of surprise and recognition, possibly mirroring my own, except I didn't let it show.

I stared, my face emotionless.

_"Heeeeey,"_ Percy Jackson grinned widely. "We meet again."

**verse xv/ percy/ monday, 14:40**

_**I guessed I couldn't hide**_ my surprise then, because I really _was_ surprised and happy to see her.

"Marbeth Chase, right?" I asked.

"Annabeth," she said. At least I was close. I sucked at names.

"Oh yeah, sorry,"

She stared at me blankly then scrunches her eyebrows. And then she turned on her locker, getting some paperbacks in it. I supposed she could remember me more, right? I mean, I couldn't be wrong. It was her, that sophomore in the subway. Was I mistaken?

"Hey, don't you remember me?" I asked.

"Yeah," Oh. _See, I was right._ "It's just… I thought you won't remember me. Considering—"

"I was drunk and all, I get that,"

She closed her locker then she looked at me, "That was Molly's"

"Molly?" Who the hell was Molly?

"The locker. That is hers." She started walking along the hallway. We have the same path way so I followed.

"Was," I corrected, "And, uh, no, I dunno. Someone upset my locker and Paul let me have this, though. I guess your Molly transferred already."

"Um. Okay." Clearly, it was not. Her eyebrows scrunched again.

"You're heading to class?" I asked.

"Yes,"

"In?"

"Latin,"

I cleared my throat and aim a deeper voice for a shout, "_Braccas meas vescimini!_"

She laughed out loud, "I think you just said, 'Eat my pants!'"

I laughed, "Really? I wasn't sure where did that come from, anyway,"

She ceased laughing, "What about you? What's your next class?"

"Uh, World Lit, I guess?"

"You guess?" A small smile tugged her lips.

I shrugged. I think it was World Lit, though. She shook her head, amused but confused. Then I saw her t-shirt. It's the batch shirt last year of the Drummers' Troop here at Goode. I recognized it because Connor's brother, Travis had one.

"I didn't know you're a drummer," I blurted out.

"How did you—" She looked down on her shirt, seeing I was eyeing it, "Oh. I got in last year. I wasn't really planning on joining. Rachel—my best friend—just wanna give it a shot. But she wouldn't try out without anyone else so… I tried out, too.

"Eventually, I got in. And, um. She didn't." She explained.

"Unfortunate," I commented.

"Nah, she wasn't even sorry," she laughed. "She said she really wanted to be in the cheering squad. But… Apparently, the cheer captain didn't let her in. Shame, actually. Rachel's actually pretty good. She said the cheer capt—" She paused. "Oh. I'm—I'm sorry," she said in a small voice, looking at me shyly.

I realized my face darkened a bit with what she was saying. But it wasn't like that. I didn't feel like protecting Cal. What she's saying was true, anyway. Cal got this insecurity ever since. And I guessed that Rachel is actually pretty good for Cal to be that rude. I just felt _cautious_ with topics about Cal these days. I wasn't healed, but I was already moving on.

"No, it's okay," I said, "I mean, it's true. Whatever you're saying about her. Cal's not a very…endearing kind of person, you see."

She didn't respond.

"Hey," I said, "it's okay, really. I actually am not thinking about her anymore. Till you brought her up," That was true. And I would gladly note that that's a progress.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I can't help laughing a bit with her expression—she really _was_ sorry. "You're the sort of person who apologizes a lot, aren't you?"

She blushes a bit and I laughed more. This girl's making me laugh effortlessly. Then suddenly, she looked around. She bit her lip and became uncomfortable.

I looked around, too and I saw what she's uncomfortable about: the other students are gawking at us. Well, at me. But now I was talking with Annabeth, she's inside the picture also. And to see her _with_ me… Right now… it's not a good idea. Even if we're just talking and not doing anything wrong and insanely illegal for their sake, you know how rumors will bend as they pass from naughty mouth to naughty mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry about them. I think I am the one who must be sorry." I confessed, "I guess you shouldn't be seen with me right now… with the intrigues and everything."

"Right," she said. "I understand."

After a while of silence, she said, "But you know… you seem to be taking it pretty okay."

What is she saying?

"With McKinley and all," she clarified, "And I'm sorry again but, I think it's is her loss. Not yours. Though I don't know anything. I just got a gut feeling." She smiled knowingly.

I stared at her.

"Anyway," she continued, stopping at a door on the right side of the hallway. "Mr. Chiron will probably give me a detention if I came to his class late. He's just like that. So—" she opened the door, _"Cheers._ Till next time," Annabeth gave me a small smile again and finally headed inside.

I stared at the door. "'Cheers?'" I said to myself. "She must be British," Then I continued to walk while having this smirk on my face, shaking my head.

But maybe she was right, that it wasn't completely _my_ loss. I just didn't know it, then.

**END OF THIRD SET**

* * *

_Enchanted _(C) Taylor Swift_ (intro)_

* * *

**A/N: **Hullo! You can check out my tumblr: **you- drool- when- you- sleep. tumb( lr). c o( m)** . Just omit those spaces and parentheses. I post sneak peeks of the next set of verses/chap there. And no, guys, I don't have an instagram account. I hear they all seem to have one. Do you want me to create, too? Lol. I was more of a tumblr girl but, we'll see. :)

AND: OH YEAH. I already watched the PJO: SoM movie. I wasn't going to say it sucked (_suck_ was a great word, darling) because it was way more, er, acceptable than the first movie installment. The problem was, it was _still_ different. I was cringing and my face was contorting the whole time—especially with the scene with the Oracle. Gods, you should hear it. I think I annoyed a lot of people in the movie house from laughing out loud. Like, loud.

Well. I can say that the movie wasn't for us, avid and rabid fans of the book. But if you were just, you know, the boring organism who _cannot_ appreciate a single magnificent work of literature, I guess the movie was pretty great, indeed.

But we are not the latter type. Go figure.

So, please _review_! Tell me some some songs you like. Maybe I could include it here. :)

XOXOXO, MJ


	4. intro: verses 16-19

**the unwanted and i/**

**intro/**

_"Lights will guide you home . . . and ignite your bones . . ._

_And I will try to fix you . . ."_

**verse xvi/ annabeth/ monday, 17:00**

_**okay**_," my redheaded best friend turned the lights off in her room as the movie starts on her widescreen plasma TV. She jumped on her bed beside me as I ate more popcorn out from the bowl one of their maids sent us.

I liked staying over here at Rachel's. For one thing, their house was a mansion. And also, I'm really at home here. Like, it's also my house and kitchen and room and everything. I could pretend I _was_ the princess.

"I heard rumors," she said, munching.

"Rumors?" I said, confused. "What about?"

"You,"

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't deny it. The bitch-wannabes are gossiping about it in the comfort room at the second floor."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Gossiping about— Oh."

"Uh-huh?"

I laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Wow," I said, "He's really that popular, huh." I laughed again.

Rachel gasped. "So, it's true, then?"

"What is 'it,' to be specific?"

"That . . . you know . . . you're his new . . . _girlfriend_?"

I laughed out loud more.

"What!" Rachel screeched, confused. "That is what's flying around the whole campus! Well, not maybe I the whole campus yet but tomorrow—"

"Okay, Rachel Dare." I looked at her. "Look at me. Look at me."

She looked at me.

"Set aside our friendship for mere ten seconds. Do I look like someone Percy Jackson would go for?"

She eyed me carefully and then she took off my glasses, "Yes,"

I sighed, taking my glasses back. "This is what I look like, okay? Now—do I look like—"

"Okay. Okay. No."

"See? Then, no. It's not true. We were just talking for a while."

"Talking? Why would he talk to you?"

I told her about our little meeting in the subway.

"Oh my God. And he's drunk?"

"Yeah," I said. "He's nice."

"Well, he's drunk. And you talked to him again when he sobered up. Is there any difference?"

I thought about that for a while, "He seemed more . . . livid."

"Livid,"

"Yeah. And . . . I don't know. He smiled a lot."

Rachel grinned slowly. "Uh-huh,"

"I don't like that smile of yours." I said, grabbing the TV controller and turning up the volume of the speakers.

_The Wedding Singer _started. I've never really watched this movie before. They to9ld me it's good so I asked Rachel for us to watch this tonight.

"Well . . . " she suddenly said, "Jackson's real hot."

"Yeah," I said, nodding. I can appreciate good looks, you know. "Maybe," _Self-destructive bastard. But hot._

"I used to have a crush on him,"

I looked at her sideways, "Used to? What _used to_?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well, now you'd be having this friendship-y fling with him, I couldn't still assume him to be the man of my dreams, could I?"

I abruptly turned my head on her, "What?" I said, "Friendship-y _fling_?"

She laughed, her eyes were still on the screen, "You know me, darling," her voice was mocking but certain, "I'm one of the mortal seers, tellers of prophecies,"

I shook my head in wild disbelief. I almost wanna laugh. "Are you going to read me tarots now, Madam Elizabeth?" I asked, but her concentration wasn't on our conversation anymore.

I joined her watch Drew Barrymore on the screen.

**verse xvii/ annabeth/ monday, 00:02**

_**we didn't notice the time**_. Rachel and I knew how to do sleepovers and slumber parties so I guessed we're really pretty carried away.

I didn't regret it, though. Even I knew, as I walked towards our front door, that I would be in that trouble with my Mom. She's the reason, after all, why I stayed late at Rachel's. I want some company and girl talk about my miserable life.

I opened the door, pocketing my own keys. The lights went up. Oh, here is the mighty—

"Where have you been?"

I knew this was coming . . .

"I was at Rachel's."

"Why didn't you even text me?"

I avoided looking at my mother's eyes. Athena, a lot of people say, is my carbon copy. Only aged and way, way, more matured-, professional- and intelligent-looking. My father used to say Mom is a lot beautiful like me when they were young which is so untrue. My Mom could be a lot beautiful, sure, but not me. I'm a lot average and dorky.

Parents just say those positive things because they _are_ your parents. They are supposed to provide comfort (I have my eyes rolling here) to us, their children, even if they have to tell some lies. It's in the job description, as someone say.

"Look, Mom," I wasn't allowed to call her Athena on her face. "I'm tired, please. Can we go through this tomorrow mor—"

Then it happened.

She threw copies of my own books she probably had gotten from my bookshelves in my room—_The Fault in our Stars, A Christmas Carol, The Great Gatsby, Dear John_ . . .

I was so shocked by what happened. I thought I was really _that_ tired to not notice that she was holding a great deal of my paper and hardbacks with her hands till she threw it in the floor.

"I told you not to read those again. Yet you are keeping them still." Her voice was stiff.

I didn't move.

"I could conclude these are the reasons why the results of your exams are disappointing." she said.

I started to bend down to retrieve my books but she grabbed my arm forcefully. I looked away. "Dad gave those to me, they're all mine."

"Don't you dare use that tone to me, Annabeth Chase."

I yanked my arm away. "You're always like that," I practically spat. God. I'm so sorry I'm being so cruel. "Whenever my A+ grades dip to A-, you are always like that. You're always ready to blame Dad's books! If you're mad at me don't—"

She slapped me.

I felt my tears stinging, threatening to fall.

"Go to your room," she snapped.

I didn't move.

"Go to your room NOW!"

I dashed upstairs.

At that moment, I wasn't so sure anymore if I'll ever see my books again.

**verse xviii/annabeth/ tuesday, 09:05**

_**in the middle of my**_ first subject I lost interest for the whole day. So now, I was here in front of my own locker thinking where to go if you're going to ditch classes. I've never ditched or cut any classes before. I was scared of getting caught. But right now . . . it seemed like I couldn't care about that.

I didn't want to see Rachel yet. I didn't want to see Piper and Silena. Or Hazel and Leo and Frank and Charlie. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to see anyone. Maybe I was being a ninny. Which sucked.

Rachel would probably blame herself for what happened when I told her about the whole story. And it wasn't her fault. It was all _mine_.

Where should I go? Where should I go where should I—

Before I could think about the stares, I was already running down the hallway.

**verse xix/ annabeth/ tuesday, 09:11**

_**building a1 is the tallest**_ building in Goode. And also, the only one which has a rooftop.

Nobody really wants to go up Building A1. And this is maybe because (a) it is rumored to be haunted by a ghost named Marlene O'Connell (bless her) who died jumping off the said building a couple of years ago or (b) the building is already old. You know how it was made up of red bricks that smell like wet moss? 98% of the students hate that. I was in the 2%. I found them too classy and vintage.

Continuing, maybe it was because (c) Building A1 is isolated by a good deal of distance from the other buildings, the car park or the football field that you can just stand at the edge of it then shout at the top of your lungs and _no one_ will hear you—most of the students are too lazy to cover a long walk.

Apparently . . . probability letter (c) was in my mind as I climbed the steps up the rooftop of Building A1. I bust in the door and ran towards the edge of the building and—with my eyes already red-rimmed because of tears—shouted.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOOOOUUUUU! AHHHHHH! I HATE YOU!"

I was crying. I was really crying. Shit, it feels _good_ to cry. When I calmed down, I just stand there by the edge, not moving. Seconds passed and I was contemplating whether a shout of curses would probably feel better than a shout of _I hate you_s. But I was startled when a voice said, "I was surprised when you just didn't jump off the building. Straight _and_ fast, you know. Much better."

I whirled around and stared at him.

"I'm just kidding. You might be considering but it's not really straight and fast. Somewhere in between death and dying, you'd have to gasp for air. And that's what hurt the most."

I kept staring. Percy Jackson was sitting on a concrete railing, across from me. His elbows were on his knees, a lit cigarette in his mouth as he spoke. He's also staring at me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. I was beginning to feel the blood running up my face. He just came here _now_, right? Like, _seconds_ ago? _After_ I shouted? Right?

He shrugged. "I just discovered this wonderful smoking area yesterday. He smirked.

I kept on staring. He's not mocking me. So maybe, We could just . . . ignore it all, right? "I'm sorry. Just—just ignore me till I— Just don't mind me, please."

He stand on the railing. Just like that. He was so confident he has his balance so perfect. Then he hopped off it and landed on the floor of the rooftop. He sauntered up to me.

I looked at him, "I didn't know you read books."

He raised an eyebrow, "I know that one. The one you quoted a while ago. _Straight and fast_."

His face seemed confused but he walked past me to look down the building. "I don't read a lot. I guess I just stumbled that across somewhere."

I walked and stood beside him.

"I really hope you're not considering jumping off. It's not worth it."

"How can you say that?" my voice is a bit raspy.

"U know . . . I'm a lot real wasteful than you just _think_ you are. And I have _never_ considered that."

"I'm not considering. I'm just wondering."

I felt him shrugged, "If you say so,"

A moment of silence engulfed. I sighed then plucked up the courage to sit on the railing. Carefully, I let my feet dangled below. My hands gripped some concrete behind. I felt him moved and I noticed he copied what I did.

"I won't ask you what happened since we don't know each other that much," he finally said. "But since the Fates kept making interstates with our roads, together, I figured we can now consider each other friends?"

I was looking at the sky. I couldn't actually register his words so I did not answer.

"I mean, only if you like," he backpedaled. "I know I don't look like quite a good influence from what you see. And considering I don't even have long real friends, you can say I truly suck." He paused. "That's true, anyway. I don't deny it. That I sucked." He paused again. "Hey, it's _not_ a pun—"

"Do you really talk and share a lot to people you just barely knew?"

He shrugged again, "Diagnosed ADHD, you can blame that. But . . . I don't know. Why, don't you? Talk a lot, I mean?"

I sighed and looked at him, "Not to people I barely knew."

"Well . . . " he said, looking at me, "back to my point. _Friends_?"

I averted my gaze from his eyes. I felt some unease staring those. "Do I have to smoke and take pot, too?"

His threw his head back, laughing. "No, heavens. Those are just for the hopeless."

I scrunched my eyebrows and took a look at him again. Did he realize he was just talking about himself? I sighed inwardly. This self-deprecating bastard.

"So . . . what?"

Silence. I supposed because I think he's smart enough, he can guess that I meant that silence to be a yes.

"My Mom never had much time to me." I started. "She's not the same ever since . . . " I let the sentence hung. Then, I re-construct my sentence. "Do you ever feel like screaming. And running away. Like, literally. Just to escape . . ."

"I'm listening,"

"I feel like that every now and then. Like you're inside a box. And you want to go out and run away and never look and come back.

"It's like you can't feel yourself anymore. Because of the expectations coming from then. You try. You do your best, then they'll just say keep on pushing. Then you'll keep pushing because that's the right thing, isn't it? But then—but then you fail."

My voice sunk into a whisper, "Even though you did your best. And they will never know. They'll just think you never really tried and succeeded. A wrong conclusion. You'd be a letdown. A failure."

I couldn't believe I was just blabbering about my life. But can you understand if I told you I felt this weight lessening and lessening as I talked to him? It just felt right.

After some silence, he got his cigarette and put it between his fingers, flicking it to get rid of some ash. "You know, Annabeth . . . " he started, "these people . . . I bet they already failed before."

I looked at him. I can't imagine Athena failing any other way possible. In studies, anyway. But I got his point.

"And they did expect you to be the best and not to fail because they already knew what it's like to be a massive failure. And they don't want you to be one. That's why they keep telling you to push and never stop. Because they want you to strive harder than before.

"The problem is. . . life keeps getting on your way." He paused, "Well, I don't know much but I'm pretty sure if you bet against life, you lose."

I pursed my lips. "What am I going to do?"

He looked at me for a long time. Then he shoved his cigarette again to his mouth and began to turn around to hop off the railing where we're both seated. He landed on his feet. "One thing you must remember: it only ends once, my friend. Everything else is just progress. Uphill or downhill."

I swiveled around to look at him.

"Either way, you can't afford to back off. Because it's not yet the end."

"So what you're saying is to keep pushing?"

He blew some puffs of smoke in the air, looking upward. "if that's how you imply it, then yes."

I looked again ahead of me because my neck hurt from craning to just look at him.

"But if you'll ask me, I had backed off a long time ago. And . . . it isn't something you wanna do. Seeing you're very . . . different."

I hoped he meant _good_ different. Not, you know, the other way around.

"Well . . ." he said, "you're welcome. If you're planning to say something."

I sighed. Then, the shitty side of me blurted, "I heard Cal is already dating this Ethan guy."

I was so shocked I just pursed my lips. Bitch, Annie. Bitch. I casually looked ahead. Then he said, "Yeah. Heard that, too. May they live happily ever after. They have my blessing."

Bitter much?

"Why?" he suddenly asked.

I turned to hop off; he helped me landed on my feet because I was just too small. I barely reach his chin with the top of my head. "Well, this is a good experience when ditching classes, huh."

He raised his eyebrows. "You have never cut classes before, have you?"

It's my turn to shrug. "Anyway. I guess I can still catch up with my third subject,"

He cocked his head to one side, "Always the _scholar_,"

I smiled, "Am not. A scholar I mean,"

He smiled back. "I'll stay here. I don't feel like attending classes at all today, actually." I found it too endearing even with the cigarette I his mouth. The smile, I mean. "Cheers, then?" he asked.

I blinked. Then I laughed. "Cheers, then." I nodded as a farewell. "And—thank you."

He seemed surprise with my gratitude. But before he can say something back, I was already turning towards the exit, to the stairs leading down.

**END OF FOURTH SET**

* * *

_Fix you_ (C) Coldplay_ (intro)_

_Looking for Alaska _(C) John Green_ (verse 18)_

* * *

**A/N:** REVIEW! PRETTY PLEASE? My midterm exams are nearing. And I'm going to be super busy. But if I reached 10 more reviews, I could update sooner. That's a promise :)

XOXOXO, MJ

(_City of Bones_ the movie. . . here I come :D I was so excited. _The Mortal Instruments_ was my fandom community before PJO. Just sayin. *wink* )


	5. intro: verses 20-25

**Sorry for the long wait. It is still our midterm exams till Wednesday (;**

* * *

**the unwanted and i/**

**intro/**

"_I've been roaming around, always looking down and all I see . . ._

_Painted faces fill the places I can't reach . . ."_

**verse xx/ percy/ wednesday, 07:15**

_**honey**_," my mom said at the breakfast table. Paul already left a couple of minutes ago.

"Please don't tell me that you're being like that because of what I am thinking . . . " My Mom said.

I looked at her. "What is it you're thinking?"

Sally Jackson-Blofis, my Mom, is a very nice and kind person. She's the best Mom ever, and the best wife, if you'd ask Paul. Usually, when I look at her, I could see her laugh lines that only make her face more gentle and kind. But now, that kind face is full of concerned. I could sense she was really troubled by my _dire_ situation. That's how I knew she already knew.

She just sighed.

"Did Paul tell you?" I bet Paul knew.

"No, no, he wouldn't do that,"

Paul is my stepfather. They were married when I was thirteen, fourteen, I honestly couldn't remember anymore. I didn't resent Paul, though. He is a decent, kind man. Just the man for my mother. I could settle with that, since he takes good care of her. And he wasn't a bullshit stepdad, considering he used to be my English teacher in my second year High School.

At first, I had doubts, of course. I didn't want my Mom to end up again in a pointless relationship like with my Dad.

My Dad and her . . . it didn't work out so well. I was seven when they separated. He's in Greece now, doing something out of his life. I don't resent him, if that's what you're thinking. I think I understand that most things really don't work out the way you wanted. That's life.

It's okay; my Dad still sustains me. I have my own bank account. I let him do that. He's my father after all. I am his responsibility. And as I said, I have no hard feelings against him.

"Then what . . . ?"

My Mom pursed her lips. "Did Cal and you—"

I stood abruptly.

"Honey, I'm so sorry—"

"No, Mom. It's okay. I just don't want to talk about it right now,"

My Mom nodded. Then suddenly, "Oh, Percy, can you take Tyson to school today? He said he just wanted you to drive him—"

"Percy!" Tyson came running down the stairs. "You'll take me to school today, won't you!?"

I sighed. Then, smiled. "Course, dude. C'mon,"

My Mom smiled and mouthed a thank you.

Yeah, I forgot to mention. Tyson is my brother. Not my half-brother. But my _brother_. He's four years younger than me and he's in eighth grade.

Tyson was just nice. He's sometimes more emotional than most kids but he is really loving and caring. And unlike me, I could see a whole lot of life in him in the future.

He started talking when he hopped in my car.

" . . . then Nico would just come over again. Said he loves Mom's—"

"Nico, like Nico, our _cousin_?"

"Yeah. He's my classmate. He's really in loved with Mom's cooking . . . "

Tyson talked things in his school. I think he's really the one who talks. Well, somebody asked me if I really talk a lot. Even to people I do not know or just barely knew. Maybe. But I still think Tyson talks a lot more.

I smirked at the memory.

"Hey, Percy. Do you think I could get a girlfriend this year? You know the girl I'm talking about? Ella? She said yesterday that she likes my hair . . ."

I laughed, "Buddy, I got my first girlfriend when I was in High School. And you're in Middle School,"

Tyson grinned. "Well, maybe you are not that cool as you think you are, Percy."

I can't help smiling. "Who is this Ella again . . . ?"

**verse xxi/ annabeth/ wednesday, 12:35**

_**my cafe crowd was furious.**_ But Piper and Silena were just stunned. They still can't get over it.

"I admit, Annabeth, you are a cutie. But you, getting Percy. Now that's a hottie. You are getting yourself superstar problems!"

I scowled. "Look, guys. Guys. We're not-GUYS." They all looked at me. I sighed. This superstar problem was getting on my nerves already. It was just yesterday since I talked to the poor guy they're pairing up with me. I couldn't bring myself to apologize about the rumors he probably had heard, too. I'd like to. But it was so embarrassing that I was nervous every time I had gone to my locker, thinking he'll show up. Eventually, I know he would. And I'll get to apologize.

But you know what? It seemed odd that I got a feeling I was anticipating his presence. Maybe he was that nice that he didn't make fun of someone (which is to say me) whom he saw almost about to jump off a building. And that was something . . . reassuring. I don't even know how to put it into words.

"Let us not talk about this okay?" I said to them. "How many times—shut up LEO—since yesterday—do I have to explain—"

"Actually, this whole thing's making you a bitch."

"A bitch?" Rachel inquired, "Why, then?"

"Girl. The guy just broke up with the cheer captain. Do you want Annabeth here to get her hair scalped by the lot of real bitches who are pining for this moment to grab Percy Jackson. I mean. Duh."

"That was mean," commented Frank.

"I know. And it's true." Hazel said.

I sighed. Of course, I knew this. I wasn't scared to get my hair scalped. But I was scared about the very rumor. Look at that. "For the millionth time. We are just friends." I said. "Acquaintances," I added.

"Well, I have a theory," offers Leo.

"Just—_shut up_."

He held his palms up. "Okay, okay."

And the issue was settled. After the raging battle I have fought to win.

After some time, Leo perked up again. "Hey guys! Who wants to join a Friday night party?!"

"At?" Rachel asked.

"I forgot," he said, wrinkling his nose, "But—hey, it's like a couple's party! Meaning, we need, like, required, our dates to go. Like prom, y'know."

I raised my eyebrows, "Your point is . . . ?"

Leo stage-huffed, "Well, I won't ask you, if you are _fancying_—"

I smacked him on the arm. Everybody laughed.

"Oh, my goodness." Silena squealed. "That would be so romantic! Ten times!"

Rachel turned to me, "You comin', _babe_?"

I almost choked on my soda. "Are you dazed? Me?"

"Pfffft," she said, "I could get you a date—"

I waved my hand off, "Mmmmmm'not interested," I mumbled.

She sighed and made a _tsk_ sound. She was annoyed by this behavior of me but she knew me well enough to stay mad. Mostly, she was resigned.

"Well," she turned to look at the others. I couldn't be her best friend at times like this, rhetorically speaking. "Who are in?"

Then they started talking about hot guys and hot chics and hot stuff. I shook my head.

"Annie, why aren't you joining?" Piper asked over the table.

I shrugged. "Don't want a date,"

She also sighed. "But you sure wanna come?"

"Maybe. Sure. No."

Piper pouted. _Oh, no no no no no. Not that pout, McLean._ "Don't mind me," I glanced at my wristwatch. "Hey, look. I need to do, um, something." I was already standing up from the table. "Cheers, guys,"

As I walked away, I could feel their eyes on my back, following me. God I wish they knew it would look mean to others. If only they weren't my closest friends.

I was too relieved to get up. It was my turn to leave, after all. Parties. Dates. Good for them.

I could give a damn try but no. I am too dorky for that.

**verse xxii/ annabeth/ wednesday, 16:07**

_**after classes**_, when I was already close at my locker door, Travis Stoll approached me.

"Hey—Annabeth!"

I turned to look. "Hi, Travis. What's up?"

"Um, uh," he was panting a bit from running because of catching up with me, I supposed. "Dakota wants to say that practice was cancelled. Added practice hours this Saturday,"

"Oh," I said, a bit disappointed. I was into practice mode right now. Maybe I was just antsy. "Okay . . . well, thanks," I smiled.

"Um." Travis blinked. "Look. Um." He was the sort of person who wants to edit words before they blurt these out. Maybe he was just hesitating. I could tell with his _um_s. "That wasn't all I'd like to say. I . . . Um. There was this party at La Rue's residence on Friday and, um, I was wondering—"

My phone rang.

He pursed his lips. "Look—I—Forget I said something—"

_Check yes Juliet_

_Are you with me? _

_Rain is falling down on the sidewalk_

_I won't go until you come outside._

Travis hesitated, "Answer that-could be important—I—" he hesitated, and hesitated, and ran away.

I was surprised because he ran away like that. But I couldn't call him back anymore. Or maybe I was just relieved because I was sensing I wouldn't be able to say something in what he was wondering about.

I answered my phone, opening my locker in one hand. "Hello?"

Something fluttered to the ground. A paper.

Putting my phone between my left ear and shoulder, I bent down to get it.

"Annie! Do ya wanna come to mah house tonigh?" That was correct, really. Rachel really didn't pronounce the_ t._ Just yesterday, British. Now, she's a gangster.

I looked at the paper, curious and confused.

"Annie—still there?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Say, you wanna come?"

"Um." Wow. I understood Travis now. "Um." I folded the note and put it in the back pocket of my shorts. "I'm going to study."

"Oh," Rachel said. "Oh, okay,"

"Yeah . . . maybe tomorrow?"

Rachel perked up. "Okay, then. Tomorrow." She hung up.

I closed my locker and stared at it too long, thinking. Just thinking. Then I glanced at the locker on my left. Then I glanced at my wristwatch.

Without knowing (or maybe I just wasn't that aware), I was already heading outside, sure I was a mad, mad person.

_Know a lot about world civilization? I need help._

_Here at Norweigh Alley Starbucks till 5:30. __-P_

**verse xxiii/ annabeth/ wednesday, 16:20**

_**i spotted him at the **_far away corner of the cafe. His head resting on the headrest of his long couch-like sofa chair, arms folded across his chest. A book was lying sprawled on his face. I could read the title. _Journey Through Our World's History and Civilization Grade 12_.

I walked up to him till I was standing right beside his table.

"I am not good in dates," Percy mumbled on his book. "Again, for my sake, that's not a pun." He sat up straight, the book falling on the table.

I scowled, sitting on the opposite couch-like sofa chair. "That was old school, you know," I said, "The note,"

He grinned, "Well I don't know your number so I don't have a damn choice."

I began to flip through the pages of the World History book. "You're not good in History? I love History."

"I don't like History. Who cares if Cleopatra was a fucking dumbass?" This man has to respect history figures. But I gotta admit he has a point. I had thought that myself once before. Not, you know, the sense of Cleopatra's bitch-ness but whether the past really matters this big for us to have the half of our teenage life spent in memorizing these people's freaking birthdays and middle names.

" . . . and I still can't understand the difference between Sumerians and Babylon. The heck,"

"Wait. Lemme read."

I read the book for a while, while Laura Jansen croons at the background. I heard this once before. It is a cover of that song from that band with the lion or something. I forgot.

After some moments or so—I forgot the time, I always forget the time when reading—I closed the book, having this recalled knowledge again. "It's not all that complicated,"

"Really,"

"Yeah," I nodded eagerly.

He stared at me.

I sighed. "Okay, mister. First thing to know about Sumerians . . . "

**verse xxiv / annabeth/ wednesday, 16:45**

_**almost twenty minutes have passed**_. And all those times, he was staring at me. I tried not to because it was very distracting and unsettling so I mostly glanced at everything but him: at the table, at the people around, at the paintings on the walls . . . His stare was calculating. Not in a scary or frightening, nervous way but it just made you assured that he was really listening and absorbing everything you were saying.

"So yeah. That was the end of it. Actually, not the end of it. Mesopotamia is now called Iraq."

"Uh-huh," he said, opening the book and staring at it too long.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm just trying to memorize all you said."

I sighed. "You don't need to memorize." I said. "In history, what's important is that you know the sequence and reasons and backstories of the events. Even the people's motives and all. You must understand. And also, you can't memorize it all in _one gulp_. When do you need to memorize all these?"

"Friday,"

"Friday," I said, "Then you still got tomorrow."

He stared at me. "Am I really hearing this from a geek?"

I rolled my eyes, "You know what you are doing? You are forcing yourself to swallow shit of info's in one time. That won't work. All you need is peace of mind. Just relax and understand all of it. Don't memorize,"

He scowled. "I don't think I could just do that. Maybe that is your way but . . . "

"That should work, I tell you. And that's what my Dad used to say. He's a professor. History. That's why I find History great."

"Because your Dad teaches you lessons?"

The present tense hurt a bit but I decided to ignore it. "Before," I replied evasively. "He used to teach me before, yeah."

His mouth opened like he was going to ask a question but I cut him off by quickly averting the subject. "Well, by the way, it was you who needed my help . . . and that's just _my_ choice. . . "

He raised an eyebrow.

I got my Chemistry workbook from my bag and then his eyes lit up. "You have Chem this sem?" he asked.

"Sure, why?"

He grabbed the workbook and opened it to the bookmarked page. "Is this your homework?"

I nodded.

And then he started doodling on it. No. He started _answering_ it.

Was this seriously happening?

"It's my payment. You tutor me History, and I get to do your Chem homework." I couldn't see his face because he was all bent down on my workbook, but I certainly _hear_ the smirk on his face.

He looked at me. "Don't worry; I got this," then he winked.

I didn't know if I was surprised or not.

After a few minutes, I was staring at my completed homework. He had taught me how to check the equation so you would know that you're getting it all right. Percy said that was the technique he learned from the web. Most universities just teach the simplest way to college students.

I wonder if it could be really true that this guy in front of me surf the internet _for_ Chemistry. Weren't they supposed to, um, watch porn? Okay. That was mean and discriminating. How sexist of me.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

Was I blushing? Was I?

"Nothing," I said. "You're just—great. Wow."

He grinned. "You thought I couldn't solve it?"

I stared at him. I thought you were not Percy Jackson. You know, an alien from the planet Lorien. "Nah, not at all," I said. "You're just—downright amazing, that's it."

"I'm good at Math."

I nodded appreciatively. "Is this a secret? It's like your biggest secret or something."

He laughed, "No, it's not my biggest secret. Just—only a very few number of people knew,"

I nodded again. I never thought Percy could be this smart. "I know you could be a Marine Engineer,"

"How did you know that?" he asked, frowning.

I stifled a laugh. "Why, you told me, Seaweed Brain,"

He let out a strangled laugh. "_Seaweed Brain?_ Where the hell did you get that, Wise Girl?"

I raised my eyebrows. I didn't want to say I got the idea from his eyes which are colored sea-green. He might misinterpret it and think I must be staring, falling to the depth of his soul which is his eyes. And that was _so_ untrue.

I mean, I like him. I really, really like Percy Jackson, I've come to realize. But not in the way you were all thinking. I liked him the way I liked Charlie. I adored him the way I adored Butch and Rachel. Maybe that was why I agreed in the first place to come over here with him—because I already considered him as my big-brother friend. Something like that.

I also noticed that he seemed to be not caring about the rumors spreading about us. I was sure he knew. It was impossible for him not to know. But he doesn't care, like the way I don't, too, just now. I realized those were just rubbish and unimportant.

"I dunno," I finally answered. "A devil whispered it to me,"

"Annoying son of the damned," he said.

I laughed.

**verse xxv /annabeth/ wednesday, 17:20**

_**sometime later**_, I got up the chair to order us some Frappuccino. Talk is better with wet lips. I read that somewhere.

Out of the blue, he suddenly perked up, "What books do you read?"

I was contemplating whether I should answer truthfully and straightaway. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," he said, shrugging.

"Well, the moment we enter this conversation about books, you should know that I may not be able to stop. And you may not be able to relate and you'll get annoyed. Which sucks,"

He nodded. "It's okay. I'm still curious,"

I breathed out heavily, "Everything. From classics to contemporary modern. Also poems. Just everything. I am currently done reading _The Fault in Our Stars_. D'you know that?"

He stared. _Uh-oh._

"By John Green . . . ?" He knew him. I was sure he knew John Green.

"Um. No. Never heard of him, no."

"WHAT!?" I slammed my palms on the table.

He blinked then looked around. Then he looked back at me. "What?"

I huffed, "I already met a thousand or so people—including you—and about ninety-five percent of them doesn't know _The Fault in Our Stars_! This, if you'll look at closely, might be so considerable!

"But here I am RIGHT NOW, in the middle of Manhattan, sipping Frappuccino from Starbucks along the Norweigh alley, talking to a guy who freaking doesn't know John Green! That is _so_ unreasonable!

"Aren't you going to _Barnes and Noble_ just, once a year, my friend? I mean. Jesus." I finished rather hotly. Sorry, Jesus. I didn't mean your name to be included in that rant.

He blinked again. He was gaping and staring at me incredulously. Then he laughed. Like a booming, goofy, real laugh. _Jesus_. Am I that funny-looking?

"What?" I asked, furious.

He didn't stop laughing, gasping his breath. He's got his head thrown back. What did I say?

Then he said between his laughs, "I like you—I really, really, _really_ like you, Annabeth Chase,"

That was when I joined him. I was surprised he remembered my full name. I was laughing, too, not sure why the heck I was laughing in the first place.

When the laughter died long after, he said, "You must be really wise, huh,"

I shrugged nonchalantly, "And boring,"

"Boring?"

"Yeah. They all think I am pretty boring,"

"After I laughed out loud at the way you throw your words at me that slick, you think I consider you boring?"

I shrugged again.

"You're _pretty_ but you're _not boring_,"

I think I must have raised my eyebrows at that.

"Again, Wise Girl, I have no intentions of flirting. I'm just telling the truth. I'm all and everything but a liar,"

I guessed I smiled a little because he smiled more, which I found really normal, simple and ordinary. Just like old friends, if you know what I mean. But it was somehow weird because, we were anything but _old_ _friends_.

"You must know a lot of quotations, then." he said. "You know. From dead people. Or from this Mr. James—"

"John," I interjected.

"John Green." he prompted. "Even from Shakespeare, I suppose."

I leaned back on my sofa-chair and rested my head on the headrest. Then I closed my eyes.

I didn't want to impress him. I just felt like, it was good to have someone to talk about books without being that mean and judgmental. "_We the mortals touch the metals / the wind, the ocean shores, the stones. / Knowing they will go on, inert or burning/ and I was discovering, naming all these things: / It was my destiny to love and say goodbye._"

I opened my eyes, looked ahead and added, "Pablo Neruda, in _Still Another Day_,"

He was staring at me. Not at me. But at _me_. Do you know what I mean? Like someone was opening up your soul . . . through their eyes . . . and you can't help but expose your real self because . . . you were also seeing their real self . . . through your own eyes . . .

What was I thinking?

I blinked, "What?"

He kept on staring.

I scowled. Oh, right. I got it. I supposed he's gotten only the genius mind for numbers.

But before I could explain who Pablo Neruda was—realizing he didn't understand what I quoted, much less for the poet—a very warm voice like sunshine and coffee and every little sweet and cozy things combined made me jump.

"Look who's grabbing some frap," the voice said.

He was standing behind me, arms folded, with a boyish and lovely grin on his face.

"God, Percy." said another guy who was wearing a Rasta cap beside him. "You're _studying_?"

Then _he_ laughed and joined me on the seat, which inexplicably became so much small for two people. He flipped my book on the desk.

"Chem and . . . History, huh?" he said, then without averting his gaze on the books, "Hmmm, who's this pretty girl you're dating, man?"

I gaped. I couldn't register his words. I couldn't actually register any words but _pretty_. I guessed I looked _pretty dumbfounded_ here, right?

Because . . . because at this moment, in this _very_ love seat inside one of Manhattan's Starbucks cafe, is now my favorite place in the whole wide world.

"Luke Castellan," I said, starstruck.

He looked at me then smiled. "No," he said. "I _am_ Luke Castellan. You are?"

I blinked and smiled sheepishly. Was the cafe glowing? "Annabeth," I said, "I'm Annabeth Chase. Actually I'm Annabeth Brielle Chase. But some calls me Annie. But for you, I'm just Annabeth, really."

"Nice to meet you, Just Annabeth, Really," he said, smiling. We shook hands.

I was really happy I did not faint. Because I swear to God, I would've died straightaway if I did.

**END OF FIFTH SET**

* * *

_Use Somebody_ (C) Kings of Leon_ (intro)_

_Still Another Day _(C) Pablo Neruda_ (verse 25)_

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the confusion the headings of this fanfic made. Let me explain, thank you:

_**Eg:**_

**verse xxv /annabeth/ wednesday, 17:20**

**verse xxv – **number of verses, obviously (in Roman numeral form)

**annabeth – **the narrator

**wednesday – **what day is it; because my story is quite fast-paced, unlike _Lost Daughter_, this part is important to notice to avoid more confusion

**17:20 – **what time is it (twenty four hours format)

PLEASE _REVIEW!_ PLEASE PLEASE _PLEASE_ ! :_)


	6. refrain i: verses 26-29

**the unwanted and i/**

**refrain i/**

"_One of these days, you'll push me away, turn around It'll be too late._

_Your love is addictive, I'm trying hard just to quit it._

_But you're drowning yourself, you won't catch your breath, until you admit it."_

**verse xxvi/ percy/ wednesday, 17:45**

_**i was totally ignored**_. Just a moment earlier, Annabeth was talking to me. Just to me. And when my two buddies appeared, she was lost and drooling over Castellan.

I knew I once thought she wasn't the kind of girl who squeals and screams when they saw Mr. Hot Guy. Yeah, she wasn't the squealing type. She's the smiling-brightly-with-eyes-shining type. And to my surprise, I found that way more annoying.

"Why are you here?" I asked Grover.

He shrugged. "Look at your phone and see how many missed calls you got from me," he said. "Then we saw your car parked outside here. Figures you're sipping frap."

I guessed my mouth contorted that badly because Grover asked, "Why, are we interrupting something special? Is Annabeth your new girl?"

I opened my mouth to answer him—

"Oh, no! No, no." Annabeth quickly said. "We're just studying, really. Percy and I are friends."

"Oh." Grover said. "Really?" He looked at me.

"Yeah." I said, trying hard not to look at Annabeth who's smiling brightly at Luke. God, this sophomore's smile was annoying.

"Dude," Grover interrupted my reverie. "You comin' to this Friday's party?"

"Whose house?"

"La Rue's. That big house, yeah. That's why a lot of them are coming." I knew Grover was talking about Cal. "It's like a prom party. You couldn't come without a date," he snorted.

"You coming?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah! Juni's coming with me,"

That sophomore, yeah. I knew her. Cute. But I didn't say it. Instead, I turned to Luke. He's having a heart to heart talk with Annabeth.

"You coming, too?" I asked him.

"I dunno. I got no date yet." He turned to Annabeth. "You usually come to parties, right? Like Friday night parties? Socializing,"

"Oh, um." Annabeth hesitated. "Well, no. I don't. But—"

"You don't?" Luke's face was confused.

"—I could make an exception,"

I heard someone's bitter laugh in my mind.

"Well, you could be my date, Annabeth. This Friday—"

"She already has a date." I said. "She had made an exception for me this Friday. I am taking her."

Luke looked deflated, the moron. "Oh, I see." Yeah, you see.

Annabeth's mouth was open. "I—uh—"

"But we're not really, dating." I backpedaled. "Just as friends, you know."

"Really?" Luke asked her.

She still looked confused. "Um—I—" she turned to me, "What?"

I got my iPhone from my back pocket to know the time. Then I started putting my things back from the table to my backpack. "Hey guys, 'need to go," I stood up, then headed to the exit. Without looking, I raised my hand as a farewell.

I lit up a Camel from a pack in my jacket pocket.

I was in the parking area when someone grabbed my arm. "What the _bullshit_ is that?" she asked. Huh. I liked it when she swears.

I turned to look at her, getting my cigar from my mouth, putting it between my fingers. I blew a lazy puff of smoke to her face before answering, "I know a lot of bullshit in general. In fact, I am one bullshit myself. So which bullshit are you talking about in particular?"

She coughed at the smoke. "I'm not going to come with you anywhere this Friday!"

I put my cigar again in my mouth, "Sure," I said. "You _are_," I turned to leave and head for my car—

She went to follow me. I could sense her exasperation. "What? Then, that's one more bullshit, Seaweed Brain!"

I stopped and faced her. "I don' like Cafftellan that much," I said to her face.

Her face contorted then she kicked my shins. Now that's _bullshit_! It hurt! My cigar fell from my mouth. "What—the fuck—" I doubled over, folding my legs, hopping. I was grasping my right shins.

"Who the hell asked you whether you like him or not? God! I can't believe I thought you're like Butch!"

I didn't ask who Butch was since I didn't care. When I got myself composed again, I looked at her directly. There was no way I couldn't come to that party without her. For now, Grover and Luke already knew I was going to that party with a date: Annabeth. I didn't want to ask another one though I knew I could just easily find a more proper girl. I mean, someone who liked me.

"Okay, Wise Girl," I said heavily. "Look, I'm sorry. I'd introduce and help you with Luke." I inwardly winced with the lie. And I said I was all and everything but a liar. Fuck that. "Just come to the party with me."

"You said you don't like him."

"I don't. I don't even like him for my cousin. But I've got no choice, have I? I just said I'm going with a nerdy sophomore and I don't wanna back off. Bad rep. Embarrassing."

"Wow, dude." she huffed. "You were embarrassed by being known as someone who doesn't stick with his dates, which, I assume, you do often. But you're not embarrassed by being seen taking a 'nerdy sophomore' to someone's party, which, I am sure, you don't do often."

I winced again at her words. The sarcasm and accusation hurt. This wasn't going right. It's not right. That wasn't true. I mean-I wasn't embarrassed _by_ her. She wasn't embarrassing to be seen _with_. In fact, I could've been proud to call her a friend of mine. No, it wasn't like what she's thinking.

"It's not like that—really. I just—I promised I'll help you with Luke, okay? I know you like him, God, you're flirty it's annoying. So just, come with me this Friday, okay? It's no biggie. Just as friends."

She huffed again, absorbing my hasty proposal.

"It's just a party," I said, "You don't even have to get drunk or whatever. Just come with me, okay?"

She was scowling, "You're really going to help me with him? Like—make friends?"

I got another Camel and lit it up. "Yeff,"

After a long moment, "Okay. That's a deal, all right. No backing off." she said a bit indignantly.

I held my hands up. "Don't wanna back off,"

She was still mad, I guessed but it didn't matter now. She turned on her heels but I grabbed her arm.

"What?" she said, fuming.

"Your phone. I'll give you my number." She hesitated. Then I said, "We need each other's number. I can't always leave a note to your locker, can I?"

She got her phone from her back pocket and handed it to me. I typed in my number on her Xperia, and then I sent an SMS to my own phone so I can register her number on mine. Seconds later, I felt my phone vibrated. I handed back her touchscreen phone.

She snatched it from my hand rather forcefully and marched away, leaving a trail scent of lemon and vanilla.

Then she's gone.

**verse xxvii/ percy/ friday, 19:05**

_**before the school ended**_, Annabeth told me where she lives so I could pick her up. When I stopped in front of number 246, I honked.

Seconds after, she got out the door. Annabeth was wearing a plain grey button-up shirt with collar, tucked in her denim shorts with matching white skinny belt. She wore a pair of low-cut Converse. I also noticed a few dabs of pink blush and lipstick. Her curls tumbled past her shoulders.

She was on the phone. "What? No! I mean, yeah. Maybe." She was frowning when she hopped in my car. I got my roof up; the night is chilly.

"Look. Um." she said to the phone. "I've got something to do . . . I'll—I'll talk to you later, 'kay? Cheers," she hung up.

"My friends are coming to the party, too." she said to my dashboard as she bit her lip.

"So?" I was guessing her friends didn't know that she, too, would come.

She bit her lip more.

"You'll ruin your lipstick,"

She blinked. "Do I look . . . alright? I mean, don't wanna be over- or underdressed—"

"You look nice," I said. I drove in silence. Actually she was pretty. With braces and eyeglasses and all. She has this edge with the hippie couture that seemed very sharp. I didn't know what I was saying. But that was it for me.

Suddenly, when we're halfway, she said, "I was allowed only until ten." Her mother and my mother could've been friends. When I was her age my Mom tried to fix a ten PM curfew. She was unsuccessful, of course.

"Okay." I said.

"You need to drive me home."

"Okay." I also didn't feel like prolonging this mighty night. I actually have our house alone tonight. Figured I could meditate and contemplate my Jedi powers on my own. Paul was in a school convention in a Resorts World in New Jersey. He took Mom and Tyson along and they won't be back till tomorrow evening.

They love me enough to leave the house to me alone.

"I couldn't be drunk," Annabeth said.

"You won't be." I assured her.

"Or Athena will kill me,"

"Athena—your Mom?"

She nodded.

I wanna ask her why she was calling her Mom in the first name. I mean, I knew it could be natural nowadays but I thought there was some bad blood brewing in there.

Anyway, I guessed she was pretty nervous because she kept staring at her fingers and kept glancing over me. I kept on driving.

"First party?"

She nodded.

"You'll love it," I reassured, grinning.

When we pulled off the driveway, towards the house where the party would be, Annabeth's eyes were wide.

"La Rue's residence is kinda grand," I said.

"Yeah," she said. "Grand,"

I couldn't describe it more elaborately but Clarisse La Rue knew how to party and rock. Even from a distance, I could hear music blaring from the pool area. And I bet there was more music inside the house.

I wonder where her parents were. I just knew it would be this wild when Clarisse texted me _Mom and Dad are out Friday_—_PARTEY HERE AT MY PLACE!_

I couldn't help grinning right now. Back to my old life.

I looked over at Annabeth and I was glad to see her slightly smiling. Then I frowned. _Deja vu_? A whole lot of pictures just came to my head, drowning me. _Me making out with Dianne Matthews just after the house party, in her room . . . Me kissing Lola Oliver on the kitchen floor of a house, the party raging around us . . . Then me ripping Cal's undergarments right at this car . . ._

This couldn't be right. I mean, me going to a party with some unknown girl, that's understandable-that always happen before. But me pulling a certain girl, Annabeth, to my old ways, to my real life . . .

A picture of her and me came to my head. Fucking shit, Jackson, don't you ever think about that.

She was just so naive. She doesn't entirely belong in this crazy, dirty and wild, wild world. I don't wanna end this night with her ravished or damaged, like what always happen to every girl I tangle with. I didn't know if you could understand but, it seemed odd.

It was stupid of me to have these thoughts when I was obviously the one who was pulling her.

But I guessed . . . a night won't hurt.

**verse xxviii/ annabeth/ friday, 19:45**

_**i kept my eyes alert **_for some red hair. My cafe crowd was somewhere here . . . so I wanna steer away from them as much as possible.

It's just that I told them I wasn't coming at all. And so, when they see me here . . .

Percy led me inside the house. God it was big. I guessed the owner was the one we saw earlier, collecting some money as an entrance fee, sort of; I didn't know you're supposed to pay. Percy just said "Hey, asshole," to her and she let us pass without payment. I think they were friends.

Inside was like a disco house. Not that I've been inside one before. I just thought this was a disco house would look like.

He never let go of my wrist as we walked past the wild dancing bodies in the living room. The music was so loud it was chaotic. I was starting to feel nauseated when we got past the living room and ended up in the counter area, overlooking the dance floor.

I was like in a bar. I sat on one of the high stools by the narrow counter, seeing some wine goblets hanging from above. The expensive drinks were displayed everywhere. I wondered what alcohol tasted like. I never drank one before.

Percy grabbed a bottle of tequila and some OJ and started mixing and pouring like a bartender. His hands are quick, he had done this before.

"I can't drink," I reminded him.

"You won't drink alcohol." he said.

My eyebrows furrowed. Then he set a cocktail glass on the countertop, in front of me. "No alcohol in there. _Voila_."

"Oh. Okay." I sipped the drink. It's delicious, no burning feeling—the sensation of alcohol as Rachel described.

"So . . . what are we going to do . . . ? Dance?" I asked.

He drank in his glass. "If you want to. D'you dance?"

I nodded. "Oh, I dance,"

He smirked. I couldn't tell if he believed me or not but I wasn't going to explain to him that my Dad insisted before to have me took my dance lessons—from hip hop to ballet. Oh, yes.

I felt my fingers tapping along with the beat of Carly Rae.

_No more crying to get me through_

_I'll keep dancing till the morning with somebody new_

_Tonight I'm getting over you_

_Tonight I'm getting over you_

_Tonight I'm getting over you_

_Tonight I'm getting over you_

_Over you, O-o-over you_

I noticed his head was shaking back and forth—along with the beat of rhythm, too. I smiled a little.

"What?" he asked, head still moving back and forth.

I mouthed the lyrics of the song, shoulders tilting and shaking quite playfully.

_Put a flame to every single word you ever say_

_Tonight I'm getting over you_

He laughed. "Carly Rae Jepsen, huh."

And who said Carly Rae was just for girls. I couldn't help but to giggle.

**verse xxix/ percy/ friday, 20:00**

_**where are your friends**_?" she asked. I knew Annabeth was talking about Luke but I honestly didn't see him.

"I don't know," I said. "Probably with their pretty chics on the pool," I glanced at the back, at the window. "Shit, those girls are hot," I muttered.

"I didn't know you could swim in a house party."

"You can't swim if there's _no_ pool,"

"I know," she said furiously. "What I mean to say is . . . "

I wasn't able to register her next few words. Because when my eyes wandered lazily just at the dancing area where the pack of the sweaty bodies are swaying with each other, I caught someone in particular.

Her brown hair was in a high ponytail. She's wearing a hanging blouse which showed her pierced navel when she threw her arms upward. She matched high-heeled sandals with her shorts which almost literally opens her soul.

Calypso was wearing a slight dab of make-up but she was the most beautiful creature inside the house.

I gritted my teeth when I realized we're locking eyes with each other. She gave me a sly smile. Then her eyes flickered to Annabeth who's now busy admiring some paintings on the wall. Then after just a nanosecond, her eyes flickered back to me. Her arms snake up the neck of the guy he's dancing with and they grinded with each other. The guy found that too endearing and his hands dropped inside her shorts which looked pretty damn tight. _Let it rip, for humiliation's sake._

My mind was wooly. She was trying to taunt me, to make me jealous. And I could very well admit she was succeeding. But I would never ever let her know that. Never in my whole damned life. My hands were shaking with outrage as Ethan Nakamura, a half-Japanese in our year, I had come to realize, grinded himself more against Cal's hips, but I managed to stay calm outside and let my shaking hands cease.

They weren't dancing anymore. Actually, I didn't think Ethan knew they weren't inside a private room.

Cal was staring at me.

I put on my mask of patience and faced Annabeth.

" . . . with all these paintings. I mean, the house organizer has a good taste. You see that one? That was a replica of Picasso's. He's a very good artist. One of my favorites, actually . . . " she was saying while having this fascinated look on her face.

"Mmm hmm?" I said, lips curling. I tucked a stray of her hair behind her ear, skimming my thumb across her cheeks on the process. I could still sense Cal's eyes were still on me.

Actually, Annabeth _is_ beautiful. Not only in the outside. You could see that beauty in her eyes, concealed some of the times. If I wasn't in-loved with Cal, and if I was in my ordinary bastard days, I could sense the picture of us together—Annabeth and I—which came to me in the car just a while ago, could've come to life in this _very_ moment, _right on the countertop._

Annabeth's eyebrows scrunched. She's also staring at me. I bet she's wondering why I became that intimate.

I hesitated but I guessed I have to tell her what's going on even if I knew she could tell me later I was real pathetic or hopeless.

Since she wasn't protesting outrageously, I continue to touch her cheeks with the back of my hands.

And then I smiled and said at the corner of my mouth, "Just go on with it. Calypso McKinley is pissing me off,"

She blinked. Then she almost turned around to see Cal which would totally give us away but at least I managed to grab her arm and cup the back of her neck, imperceptibly forcing her to look only at me.

"Don't look, please." I whispered, feigning a smile. I was happy as shit Cal couldn't see Annbeth's look of utter shock and confusion.

"_Calypso_ is her full name?" she muttered.

"Put your arms around my neck," I ordered, moving closer to touch my forehead to hers.

She did what I told rather awkwardly and hesitantly. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?" she hissed dangerously. I could hear the nervousness and pleading in her voice. It's like, _Oh please, don't you dare kiss me or I'll judo-flip you._

I didn't answer. I just inched a little or so, closer to her, my gaze moving from her lips, to her chin.

I got closer. She had her eyes shut. _Two inches. An inch and a half._

I glanced at Cal. Ethan was gone. She was still staring at me. Then after a moment, her eyes flew upward.

She mouthed to me the word _pathetic_ before marching off. I pulled back from Annabeth and sighed.

Her eyes flickered open and she swiveled to find Cal. "Did it work?" she turned on me.

"Yeah." I said, breathing hard. "Yeah, it did."

She straightened up and blew her curly bangs out of her face. "_Pathetic_," she said.

I blinked. _No way._

**END OF SIXTH SET**

* * *

The Worst of them (C) Issues _(intro)_

Listen it here, I HEART this song — _**you t ub e wat ch?v=y9 c5yhZ VDak**_

Tonight I'm Getting Over You (C) Carly Rae Jepsen _(verse 28)_

* * *

_**A/N: **_Hi. It's been a while. Same as my reason with _Lost Daughter_. Though if I could recall, I updated _The Unwanted_ a little more lately than _Lost Daughter_. Yeah, well.

I am just utterly and inexplicably happy cuz my University won the _UAAP CDC _(Cheer dance Competition) this year. You don't know how freaking happy I am. And you probably don't know what I'm saying, _never mind._

That's it for now. DFTBA. And I'm out.

**MJ.**


	7. refrain i: verses 30-34

**the unwanted and i/**

**refrain i/**

"_To the sky, flying high, take me to the moon,_

_Day or Night, we don't have to say a word,_

_'Cause you make me feel like I'm Intoxicated, -toxicated"_

**verse xxx/ annabeth/ friday, 20:16**

_**percy's iphone rang some time **_later. I waved him off saying, "Go on, I'll stay here." because he obviously needed to go outside to hear the voice on the other line. So I watched him disappear to the crowd, the pack of swaying hips eating him from my view.

I looked around. I wonder what Rachel or Piper or Juni will say to me when they saw me here, drinking cocktail which isn't technically a cocktail. I could hear Rachel saying _Oh my God Annabeth! And you told us you weren't coming!_ I could already visualize Piper's arched eyebrow while asking _Who's your date, then?_ And then they will eventually know:_ Percy Jackson_.

And I could definitely see the three of them fainting at the spot. God, those friends of mine.

I mean, sure, Percy is kind of good-looking and all. But I still couldn't see something in him which is _greater_ than Luke. I wonder where Luke was somewhere here. He was actually the reason why I was stuck in this party, drinking some orange juice mix. Because of my perseverance and liking to know him more, I agreed Percy to take me here, as his date. God, was that _hopeless_?

Where was Percy anyway? I glanced at my wristwatch. It was already sixteen minutes past eight. Too early. I wonder if we could dance. But I didn't think he believed in my dancing skill which is, I must note, could be counted as a true talent. Hey, I _was_ serious.

Suddenly, I saw some moving shadows in the corner, just beside the blaring speakers. Then it struck me that these weren't just shadows. I recognized a girl in my year making out with Connor Stoll. His hands were skimming her bare legs (thanks to her mini skirt) while the girl's hands were on his arms, steadying the both of them. They were kissing frantically, like there's no tomorrow. I mean it. I could tell a good kiss, yeah. And I could say that this one was a result of frenzied hormones, that's all. No chemistry at all. Call me a real dork but where was the spark in that? You're just kissing and licking and diving in and all but anything which was left was a product of human sex instinct. _No boy and girl._ Just lust and libido kicking in.

My eyes grew wide without my permission when Connor slipped a hand under her skirt, just between her legs. From my view, they weren't kissing anymore; Connor was like, er, licking her neck and collarbones . . . ? I don't know if the girl should react. She just has her eyes closed and her mouth opened in a small delicate O. I guessed she was moaning.

"She's like having a heart attack, yeah? But honestly she was just having an intensely organized orgasm,"

I practically squeaked.

"Oh, hush," The voice said. It was a girl I didn't know. She laughed. "Hello, Percy's girlfriend." she smiled, "I just happened to see you witnessing Connor Stoll and Mary Lindsay's make out session."

"What? I—No—"

"Tsk, tsk," she shook her head. "_Another virgin_,"

My ears were red. I hoped it didn't show because of the disco lights everywhere.

"Well then," she continued, "I'm Chloe,"

Um. I didn't know what to say. "I'm Annabeth,"

"I know," Chloe winked. "I'm in the cheering squad anyway. You're a drummer. I usually see you in their practice."

"Right." I said. "Hey—I'm not Percy's girlfriend,"

She raised her eyebrows. Dang, another unbeliever.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, producing a small woven hand basket with lots of candies and brownies and sweets in it. "Candy?"

I eyed the candies.

"Come on," she thrusted the basket to me, "I'm being nice and generous."

I supposed she was right. And it would be mean to turn her down. I got a minibar of chocolate.

She smiled to me and eyed me carefully. I felt awkward so I just fiddled with the wrapper till it came off. I munched the candy.

"Hey," I smiled lazily, finishing my bar, "It's good."

Chloe smiled. She has a nice kind of smile. Slow and sexy. "Want more?"

I ate more. I think I ate a couple of minibars and some brownies. I wasn't hungry. I just . . . can't stop eating. It's _so_ good.

"Okay, Annabeth?" Chloe with the sexy smile said. She was pouring something from a bottle to two small Dixie cups. My orange juice was gone. "How 'bout something stronger?"

I looked at the cup she was handing me. Then I smiled lazily as I got it from her. "Sure," I said. Then she touched her Dixie cup to mine.

**verse xxxi/ percy/ friday, 20:20**

_**yes, mom**_." I said to my Mom on the phone. She was checking if I was at home. Of course, I lied. It was easy to lie if you do it at all times.

"Okay, dear. I trust you, honey. Sleep well, okay? Don't let the bed bugs bite,"

I rolled my eyes but I was smiling a little. It was some sort of nice to have your Mom treat you younger than you really are, sometimes. "Love you Mom," then I hung up.

When I whirled around to make myself go back the house, I found myself face to face with Cal.

"Lying to your Momma again?" she leered at me.

"Cal," I said nonchalantly.

She folded her arms. "Who else," she said then paused. "I see you're moving on." she has some contempt and mockery in her tone.

"Yeah."

She continued to leer.

We we're at the garden area. It was unbelievably quiet here but I could still hear some distant thump thump of the speakers inside the mansion.

"She's cute. You're new girlfriend,"

"Why are you here?"

She still has that tinkling laugh I fell in love with, "Why, I am partying like you. With my _new boyfriend_."

I could pick out how her accent thickened and got stressed in when it came to new boyfriend. I guessed she was just here to make it all harder for me. Bitch.

"Look, Cal." I said menacingly. "I was minding my own business. So if you wanna stay intact you'd rather stay away,"

"Oh do you now? Do you like me to stay away?"

_No_. I want you to come back. "So much,"

"You're such a bad, _bad_, hot liar when it comes to me, Percy. You know that, right?"

"Bitch,"

She laughed. Then her cellphone rang. "Hello?" she answered still looking at me. "Chloe," she said. "Yeah . . . " she paused. Then she laughed again. "Well," she has her eyes narrowing, her lips curling more than ever in that mischievous evil grin. "let her make a scene, then." She hung up.

I was having a really bad feeling. "Who's that?" I asked.

"My darling Chloe, of course." she smiled.

I stared at her. "Stay away from me and Annabeth. You know how I am when I become seriously angry."

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. I pushed past her to go back.

**verse xxxii/ percy/ friday, 20:35**

_**annabeth wasn't in the kitchen**_ counter anymore. I saw her orange juice glass, half-drunken, in the sink. A bottle of tequila that had been newly opened and drunk half-way was with a Dixie cup on the counter. There was a woven basket of goodies besides.

Where was she?

Grover approached me with her girlfriend, Juniper. "Hey, Percy." he said. "Where's your girl?"

I scowled, "She's missing,"

He laughed then turned on his date. "Juni. I thought your friends with Percy's date?"

"Huh?" she said.

I realized Annabeth was in a dangerous position. "No," I rescued. "She wasn't,"

Grover frowned. "No?"

"No." I prompted. Eventually, they would know the truth in the future. But I'd let Annabeth fix things up on her own. I knew her friends don't know she was here with me.

"Ow, candies," Juni squeaked, reaching out for a chocolate bar from the basket, "I like these—"

Before I could stop her, thank goodness Grover has received a gift of sensibility from the heavens, because he stopped her hand first from reaching out. "No, baby." he said, "Those candies aren't good for you. They're, uh, mixed with _something_ bad," he was apologetic.

Juni seemed to get it. "Oh," then she perked up. "Wanna dance again?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Grover said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I nodded as I watched them mix with the crowd.

Then I was left alone. Where the hell was that girl? God, I was getting nervous.

To calm my nerves, I grabbed the bottle of tequila from the counter and uncapped it. I took a swig. Then another. And another. And another one—till it was empty. Dang. I was drunk, yeah. But I wasn't _that_ drunk. I could still drive. It's just half a bottle of tequila, anyway.

After some time, I heard a whooping noise in the crowd. Some of the guys over there were cheering quite wildly. Another ecstatic chic? Always happens, I thought. But my thoughts became fuzzier when I caught a glimpse of some anonymous blonde hair in the middle of the whooping, crazy bodies out there.

No. It wasn't an _anonymous_ blondie.

"Shit," I got up from the stool and stumbled to get upright. I shook my head and blinked fast. "Fucking _shit_."

The pack of bodies were getting chaotic than ever. The noise was blaring. _Hey, baby! Come on! _I made my way towards the dance floor.

And there was Annabeth—dancing, laughing, and flirting with a group of motherfuckers. She moved unsteadily, unsurely. But sure as hell, she was enjoying the roller coaster feeling of this.

An unknown guy moved to dance with her. He pulled her closely by the waist till their hips touched and I couldn't breathe I couldn't see but red I couldn't just stop myself—

"Hey," I growled, making my way towards them. "That's my date, you asshole!" I yanked the guy away from Annabeth. I might've straightly punched the guy's lights out if it wasn't Annabeth here. I don't wanna create some trouble with her presence. They both blinked at me disorientedly.

The guy smirked, "I know you," he said. "Percy Jackson," he spat.

"Fuck you," I said.

He raised his hands and stumbled to get away. Now I was in the middle of these stupid dancing crazy bodies and Annabeth was looking at me, scowling.

I stared at her, glaring. She giggled. "LET'S DAAAAANCE!"

She snaked her arms around my neck and started dancing. I yanked her arms off me, gripping her wrists. She stopped, confused. "WHAT?"

Her breath hit me blindingly. "Are you drunk?" I shouted so she could hear me. The music was so loud.

She hiccuped. "No," she smiled lazily. "LET'S DAAAANCE, PERCY!" She whooped.

Christ. "What the—Annabeth! ARE YOU HIGH?"

She was dancing, twirling, laughing madly, "Oh goodness, I love this song!" she shouted. "_I wanna party, and bullshit, and party, and bullshit, and party, and bullshit, and party, and party-_"

I looked around. Who could possibly—

"_So put your hands around me baby, we're tearing up the town, cuz that's just how we_—"

What the hell. I lifted her off. Draping her small body over my shoulder.

She giggled, stopping mid-song. "What are you doing!"

"I'm taking you home."

She lost it when I said that.

"No no no no no—I don't wanna go home! I don't wanna go home! I DON'T WANNA GO HOME!"

She was now drawing attention. A lot of people were gawking now as I made my way outside, towards the carpark.

On my way out, I saw Cal in the kitchen counter, sitting like an evil princess with her legs crossed, sipping her cocktail drink. Her smile was glinting of malice and success. Someday, I would kill that girl.

Annabeth was still protesting. It was getting hard to steady her on my shoulders. She kept on shouting and pounding my back saying what a dick I was.

But I never lose my grip. I held her even more tightly.

**verse xxxiii/ percy/ friday, 21:13**

_**i sat her on my**_ passenger seat despite of her protests—"I want to dance more!"—and—"Put me down! I'll kill you!"—She's a one stubborn girl when she was drunk and high. But I was more of a stubborn person than her-drunk and high or not, so I didn't let her go till I finally secured her seatbelts. I wondered how much of those candies did she manage to take. And I hoped she wasn't the only one who drank that first half-bottle of tequila which I drained.

I was about to take the road heading to her house when she giggled. "You can't take me home like this, dummy. Athena would kill you." she said, "_After_ she killed me."

Shit. She was right. I can't drive her home like this. She was still high and drunk. Her Mom would _definitely_ kill me.

I looked at her. I frowned when I noticed her eyeglasses were missing. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep. The buttons of her shirt were all off, busted. I gritted my teeth as I wondered who did the busting.

Her breasts were almost exposed, her cleavage in my full view. I almost lost my thought when I realized I was staring; she has a well-developed body for her age. Sixteen, probably.

I bit my lip. She would definitely think it wasn't the best idea. Might be the worst out there. But I didn't have a choice. I can't honestly think straight anymore; I didn't know exactly why.

After idling long enough, I took the road, heading my own house. Thank heavens Mom, Paul and Tyson were all out.

**verse xxxiv/ percy/ friday, 21:35**

_**along the way**_, Annabeth was silent. I thought at first she has fallen asleep but then she spoke very softly, "Out of reach,"

I glanced at her briefly, "What?"

"Out of reach," she repeated in the same soft voice. "The song. Out of Reach. _By_ Gabriel,"

She was talking about the song humming from my stereo. I saw her eyes on the mirror. They were sad. I wonder what memories were being brought back by that single song.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She didn't answer. I turned off the radio. Silence.

She looked at me with those deep grey eyes. Her eyes were shining. They were still sad. "What's wrong?" I asked, scowling.

She smiled wistfully then looked away. After some moment, she began to speak softly. "My Daddy used to dance with me on the porch with that song. He taught me waltz,"

I hoped her crazy behavior when drunk or high has ended and this was now the worst I can get: a sentimental, dramatic Annabeth.

I decided to get along. "He must've been good,"

She smiled sadly. "Yeah, he was."

Was. _Was_? What's all this past tense she was using when she talks about her father?

"He was a great ballroom dancer, actually. He's a one talented Daddy. Genius . . . very clever . . . caring . . . loving . . . "

I kept on driving. I thought she wouldn't talk again. But then, " _'I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; / I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. / I love thee with the passion put to use / In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.' _"

Ice imperceptibly ran down my spine. "What?" But even as I asked, I realized she was quoting someone again.

"_ 'I love thee with a love I seemed to lose / With my lost saints-I love thee with the breath, / Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, / I shall but love thee better after death.' _"

I glanced at her sideways. I couldn't explain but . . . I was suddenly suffering from an unknown grief that seemed to unfurl with her words.

"_Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Sonnets from the Portuguese._ My Dad quoted to me that when I was twelve. I said to him, I said, _Daddy, what book did that come from? _And he said, _Annie, that's from _Sonnets from the Portuguese. _They republished the first editions of that book. _I asked him, _Is that a good book, Daddy? I want to read _Sonnets from the Portuguese_, too!_ He just laughed, saying, _No, Annie, dear. That book isn't for you yet. You must read _Tom Sawyer_ and _Anne of Green Gables _instead._

"After that, I cried and cried. I told him I was already a grown up. That I want to read that book, too. My Daddy found that amusing. He thought I was a prodigy and he kept saying, _Athena, our daughter is a gifted child! _My Mom would always smile and she'll call us for lunch and we'll eat chicken and pasta and Daddy will burn the barbeque."

She paused, staring into space. I was already listening intently. "But then I never forgot _Sonnets from the Portuguese_. Every night I would badger him about it, whining and saying I already read _Tom Sawyer _and _Green Gables _for school. Then he would suggest the Legos. Always the Legos. To distract me from pleading for a copy of that book, we'll _always_ play Legos.

"I wasn't the one to forget. I kept pleading. Then one night he came home from work and I showed him my first vivid sketch of a building. My teacher graded it Very Good. With five stars. He was so proud. And so my Mom. They put my artwork on the refrigerator.

"When he asked, _Honey, what do you want for a prize? _Then my eyes just went wide and I was so happy and laughing and screaming excitedly and I said, _I want my copy of _Sonnets from the Portuguese. Then he said,_ Is that it? Okay. Just wait till I got home._ Then he kissed me goodbye on the forehead and he drove downtown to buy a copy of the book I asked.

"Then my Mom and I waited and I was waltzing with Mr. Teddy Bear on the front porch and I was singing and singing till he came home."

She paused again. She was silent for another few breathing minutes. Then, "Only he _never_ made it home."

There was this silence around us. I couldn't look at Annabeth.

"Four men came to our house. And they said they were policemen. And my Mom was crying so hard. I wasn't, though. _Daddy will come back,_ I said. And Mommy just sobbed harder and she just embraced me.

"It was simple. Car accident. Ice on the road. He couldn't hit the brakes fast enough . . . hit a tree . . . _stupid tree _. . . "

She looked at me. Her eyes were half-closed; she was still under the drugs.

"The steering wheel crushed his whole chest almost in half because of the impact. He died in a nano second. Not so much pain. He didn't bleed to death, _thank God_."

Her voice was a whisper. I could hardly hear it. "That was November. Just after Thanksgiving. His _last_ Thanksgiving."

We were already nearing our apartment. Red light. Stop. I hit the brakes slowly and waited for the green. I looked at her.

What could I say? _God, what could I say?_

"A copy of _Songs from the Portuguese _was found in the car." she continued. "You know, people will say it's sad because real life is not the same with books." She paused. "Do you know how cruel it was when I said my life is a one bit tragic story in a book? I mean . . . How can it happen that _of all_ the stories inside a novel . . . what became real for me is the _painful_ part?"

Then she gazed outside, at the other cars along the avenue. She laughed humorlessly. She was shaking, shaking, trembling horribly. Her laughter turned to gasps and sobs. Little sobs of pure pain and raw guilt. "I killed him, right, Percy? _I killed my Daddy._"

No. No, _no_. "No, Annabeth," I said helplessly. "You didn't,"

But she wasn't here to hear me. She wasn't just here to receive any sympathy and consolidation. What was here was a part of her which was forever _broken_. There was no use for me to talk sense to her right now.

_I killed Daddy. Killed Daddy. I killed my own Daddy, Percy. Killed him. It was me. I killed him._

She went like this till her sobs cease and her tears went scorched. When I stopped at our apartment, I shifted myself to pull her against me. She didn't protest, she was already tired and weak. I let her cry and cry, till she calmed down.

Right against my chest. Right in my car. Under the starry September nightsky.

**END OF SEVENTH SET**

* * *

_Intoxicated (C) _The Cab_ (intro)_

_Songs from the Portuguese (C) _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ (verse )_

* * *

_**A/N: **_Less than twenty days from _House of Hades_. Holy hell I am hyperventilating I can't contain my feelings I need to know what really happens to Percabeth RIGHT NOW, Christ Aggghhhsasdfghjkladddfdjjjl

Oh sorry. I forgot I am in _Fanfiction_. Not _Twitter_. Oh, well.

Sembreak's on October 12. Gonna update more frequently. ((((:

And I'm out.

**MJ.**

(I'm an angel with a _shotgun_ . . . /d^_^b/ )


	8. refrain i: verses 35-38

**the unwanted and i/**

**refrain i**

_"Down to you, you're pushing and pulling me down to you._

_And I don't know what I want._

_No, I don't know what I want."_

**verse xxxv/ percy/ friday, 22:00**

_**i decided to be generous **_to give her my own bedroom. I still can't believe what she had said to me on the ride here. No wonder why I could see a glimpse of doubt, guilt and misery in her eyes sometimes. I laid her down to my bed and untied her laces. When I was done, I looked at her.

"What am I goin' to do with you, kiddo?"

She frowned and mumbled something incoherent. I smiled sadly.

I got the chance to look at her real closely. She was cute. And young. And peaceful. And—

"Cheers!" she suddenly shouted, a hand raised as if in a toast. I jumped at the sudden movement. When she went slack again, I bit back the urge to laugh loudly.

I got up the bed, shaking my head when a hand grabbed my wrist. I frowned and looked at her. Her eyes were closed. I tried to pry her fingers off but she wouldn't let go.

I sighed again. What am I really—

She pulled me so abruptly that I lost my balance and landed beside her. "Annabeth—"

She's now sitting up, eyes half-closed, breathing hard, her hands tugging her locks uncertainly.

"Hey," I said groggily. "Does your head hurt?"

Annabeth looked at me unknowingly. She breathed out a hiss of soft giggles. She crawls up to me, till we were nose to nose. I actually didn't think that was a good idea at the time. I was starting to feel more the after-effects of tequila.

She whispered into my ear, "_I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm. / I'll keep taking punches till their will grows tired. / I will stare the sun down till my eyes go blind,_"

Her words were all slurred but she still managed to continue what she's reciting. _"I won't change direction and I won't change my mind. / How much difference does it make?_"

I really wondered how high and how drunk she was. If she kept doing this, I would lose my self-control and lunge myself at her completely. My eyes wander her face as she talked unconsciously. Her shirt was still unbuttoned and I could clearly see—

I shouldn't. I knew I _shouldn't._ Annabeth was practically my little sister. What I felt towards her was just like how an elder brother would feel towards her own younger sister.

But I really doubt you would want to drag your little sister headfirst and just kiss her _non-stop_ and frantically until—

"_I'll swallow poison until grow immune. / I will scream my lungs till it fills this room. / How much—_"

So much for the difference it would make, I inwardly growled.

We collided. Her lips were soft and they fit perfectly to mine. At first, she seemed surprise; she can't move. She didn't know what to do. Then suddenly, it occured to me that this might be her _first_ kiss, that's why.

I decided to go slow.

But I wasn't that sober as shit required. I'm just not drunk enough to not be able to drive. So, what I decided wasn't committed. I couldn't take it slow. I kissed her like how I want to. I kissed her torridly, lust building up quickly. As I shove my tounge inside her mouth, my hands were doing their magic by putting her shirt over her head. She gasped at her sudden nakedness. But I drowned myself as I kissed her neck and shoulders and collarbones and chest.

Instinct took over naivety. Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her legs straddling my hips. She was above me. I could feel her . . . Like an untamed animal, I pushed her roughedly on the bed. We're both uncontrollable. _Unstoppable._ Frenzied. Drunk. She was high. And I _can't_ . . .

She was moaning softly as I fumbled for her bra. I stopped. I straightened up.

"God Almighty," I said, closing my eyes. What am I doing? God, it hurts. It really hurts. I _need_ to grab her. Rip that _stupid_ bra and shorts and- Stop. I stopped. How did I stop?

"I'm _so_ sorry, Annabeth. I didn't—I didn't mean to—" I closed my eyes for a long time. She went slack again.

When I opened them, I noticed she was asleep again. I sighed. I picked up her shirt from the floor. For the first time in my life, I was dressing someone up. A girl.

I got up, still dazed. Then I grabbed a blanket from one of my closets and I draped it over her.

I tucked her in. Then hesistantly, I kissed her cheek before getting up, whispering some words I knew she wouldn't able to hear or remember, even.

"_I'm sorry_," I said against her cheek, my guilt flaring up. "I won't—it won't happen again, kiddo. I'm sorry."

That's when I left.

**verse xxxvi/ annabeth/ saturday, 08:45**

_**i woke up in the **_smell of coffee and ocean breeze. The coffee smell was faint, just lingering around me. Emma was already making coffee. And waffles, probably waffles. The smell of ocean breeze anyway, was stronger, just inside my nose, like I was breathing it in. I frowned. Smells familiar. But no, my quilts and pillows smelled like fabric conditioner, like lavender.

Perhaps I was already hanging around him a _lot_ than I should that's why I had carried his scent under my nose . . .

I groped for more pillows. No more pillows. I did the Math. One under my head. One between my legs. One— No more. I should've been drowning with pillows. Where were my pillows? It's getting scary.

With my reluctance, I slowly opened my eyes. Right. Ceiling. There _was_ a ceiling. At least I wasn't in a warehouse-I wasn't kidnapped. But of course my eyes should've been covered to start with if I was. I sat up and looked around very disorientedly. My head hurt, my God. Then that's when I froze.

Electric _blue._ Blue walls. That's what struck me first. My walls weren't blue. They were bare _white._

This is bad. This is _really_ bad.

Then bit by bit, little by little, I was finally seeing all the details around me. My vision was blurred but I could see. A different bed . . . blue ocean-scented quilts and pillows . . . a different computer . . . window blinds . . . different closets . . .

Oh, God. _Oh,_ _my_ _God._

To make me feel worse, a door opened and someone stuck his head in. Percy has a piece of toast in his mouth. When he saw me already up, he raised his eyebrows and said thickly, "Mm, yer up." He was on his pajamas. No shirt and was bare-footed. He completely came in and went to his dresser, opened it and rummaged things.

"There was Advil on the nightstand if your head hurts. _Aaaand_ . . . your shoes are under the bed. Your glasses are missing, though. Don't ask me, please. I certainly don't have an idea where it is."

I was speechless.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, facing me, a towel draped on his shoulder. "Breakfast's downstairs, if you're hungry—"

_"What_ _the_ _hell,"_ I finally said.

He stared.

"What in the name of the _devil_ am I doing here?" I said very carefully.

He continued to stare.

"What?" I am going to throw up.

"Okay," he said more carefully. "Don't conclude. You're understanding it wrong."

"No, I'm—I'm not understanding it wrong-I really-I'm not understanding it _at all_—what am I—I mean—"

"Okay." he said. "Okay." He sat on the bed cautiously. "Don't panic, okay?" I actually am panicking right now. Like, _right_ _now._

"What the hell?" I asked again.

"Do you—do you remember—"

"No! I don't remember anything!" I was really going to throw up.

"Hush. Okay." He said. "Just—okay. Let me help you remember." He looked at me. I couldn't tell what do I look like right then—if I was horrified or terrified or just embarassed and panicked. I couldn't tell. It wasn't hard to react hastily at the moment. But I calmed myself.

"Last night," he started. "we're on a party, remember?"

I nodded.

"And then . . . while we're at the party, I left you for a while to answer a call, right?"

I remembered.

"I left you for just a few moments. Then when I came back, you were gone."

"_Gone_?" I croaked.

"I found you on the dance floor. Dancing _and_ flirting _and_ behaving badly with a group of guys. You were drunk _and_ high."

I was mentally puking and screaming. "_High_?"

"High. I bet someone made you ate those candies they were distributing. Then it was easy to get drunk when, you know. High."

High. I _was_ high? "Then why am I here? Where am I, anyway?"

"You were at our apartment—"

"What?"

"—but my parents and brother are all out, don't worry. They'll come home tonight. There'll be no problems unless you're planning to stay until later." The sarcasm was seeping in his tone.

I breathed out and put my head between my knees. Oh my God. What have I done?

"Do you remember who offered you those candies?"

I scowled then looked up. "Someone . . . "

"Yeah?"

"Someone named Chloe. I don't know."

Percy's face hardened. "Chloe,"

I nodded. "Yeah. I think it was Chloe," I shook my head, "I don't remember anything after. I was—I was dancing . . . then I woke up. Oh my God." I looked at him, now my face was wiped out with all these emotions I was really feeling inside—mortification, shame, guilt . . . "Oh my God—"

"Okay. Don't jump into conclusions as I said, okay?"

Jesus. _Jesus._ _Mary._ _Joseph._

"I honestly didn't know what to do last night. But it was you who said I couldn't take you back to your house—"

"So you take me to your house instead," I muttered.

"—because your mother would definitely kill us when you go home drunk and high."

I scowled, considering, conceding. "But that doesn't mean she wouldn't kill me if I didn't get home."

"Well you didn't give me much of a choice," he snapped.

I recoiled slightly at that.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. His mood swings really insanely. "But," he said, "look. We didn't—I didn't do _something_ you don't want me to do to you. _Whatever you are thinking_."

Oh, heavens. I looked at him. "Are you sure?"

He rolled his eyes and stand up. "Yeah." he said quite evasively, "I _am,"_

Then he made a move to exit through the door. Before he dissappeared completely, he stopped hesitantly. I couldn't see his face, though; the room was dim, the blinds were drawn. But then he looked at me and I stared back. He opened his mouth like he's about to say something but quickly changed his mind and closed it again. I scowled even more, but he was swift to turn away and leave.

Just like that. And I thought it was settled. What a silly thought it was, right then.

**verse xxxvii/ annabeth/ saturday, 09:00**

_**i climbed down the stairs**_ carefully.

I wished I wasn't reeking of alcohol that badly. I don't want to go home yet, my God. I knew Athena would kill me anyway. Let's push it through, huh.

Thankfully, my cellphone was still in my backpocket. My purse was gone. Oh, well. Thankfully I didn't bring so much last night. Just my driver's liscense. _Ugh._ I reached the last step of the stairs. I blinked. I can't see clearly. Poor Annie. My eyes really sucked without the glasses.

Luckily, I made it to the living room. I couldn't describe the apartment. Yes, it's comfortable and home-y. But physically, the house was a blur. Dang, my poorly developed eyesight. I was standing there awkwardly, when his voice sounded near my left ear.

"Hey—"

I yelped.

"I'm sorry—it's just-the kitchen's there—"

"I know." I didn't.

He raised his eyebrows. "Can't find your way without the glasses, eh?"

"I can—"

"C'mon, let's eat."

Percy led me to the kitchen. For one thing, I can't see him clearly, including his bare chest, so I didn't have to blush horribly with the awkwardness. But I looked away just to be sure. He was padding through the house now with only a fresh pair of jeans that hung low around his narrow hips. Now, don't think I could _see_ his hips being narrow. It's just the outline.

"So," he said. "What time you wanna go home?"

"I'm not,"

"Mm?" he said through his toast.

I was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs by the table. Their apartment is quite huge and cozy. I liked it. "I'm not going home."

He stared.

"Yet. I'm not going home yet."

"Uh-huh?"

"I have practice at school. Drummers' Troop, remember?" I reached for a piece of toast while he made coffee for both of us.

"You know your Mom will kill you, don't you?" he asked, pouring sugar to my mug.

"I know," I answered sullenly.

"And you _can't_ practice wearing that same clothes," he gave me the mug of coffee.

_Sure. I can._ I reached for the sugar jar and scooped two more spoonfulls. "Nah, I can't. I'll need Rachel. You just have to take me to her right now and I'll be fine, that's all. I've caused enough wreckage and disturbance. I know I shouldn't be asking you this favor but just this last—"

"I'll do it," he said not looking at me. "But your mom is still going to kill you."

"Thank you," I answered quickly, ignoring the death threat. I really need him right now. I don't have money at all. Just this drive to Rachel, it's enough.

"And it's not a disturbance at all," I heard him say.

"What?" I said, buttering some toast.

He watched some invisible force lingering on my neck as he shook his head, "Nothing," he muttered. "This is going to end not so . . . "

I scowled then looked down at my shirt, suddenly conscious. By the time I looked back at him, his eyes were already averted.

"Look, uh . . ." he ran his fingers through his wet hair. "I'll get dressed."

"Okay," I sipped my coffee. Ah, coffee. I wished this was just another Sunday morning at home. Mom gone . . . Emma making waffles . . . me reading from a real physical book instead of iPad . . . But then, home was faraway now. Later, home would be filled with Mom's shrieks deadly threats and curses directed for me. For her stubborn, overrated daughter.

Coffee. Brings back good and bad images. I looked at the boy in front of me was now . . .

"What?" I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. Is there sugar on my face? Milk? But before my hands flew to my mouth, his hands proved to be quicker than I gave credit for. His thumb swiped clean the milk from my coffee latte on my upper lip.

I stared at him. A beam of sunlight from the windows blinded me momentarily and I couldn't see his expression as I recoiled. Just the feeling of his hands lingering on my chin.

Then it was gone, the pressure. Quickly as it appeared.

"I'll get ready. I'll drive you—after—"

Then he hesitated. And then hastily exited the kitchen.

You know, I could tell that Percy Jackson is sometimes weird and sweet. I'd love to be his real flesh-and-blood sister, if you can imagine.

**verse xxxviii/ percy/ saturday, 09:25**

_**the guilt started to build**_ up again when I saw her neck. Man, I didn't know I was that uncontrollable last night. Look, I just couldn't bring myself to say, _Hey, um, we kinda made out last night. You know, I almost ripped your bra and savaged you completely. But I'm sorry. Really, _really_ sorry._

Who _would_ fucking believe me?

And that wasn't the end of it. The things I heard she said last night about her family, particularly her father. I knew those things were private. Those kinds of things weren't meant to be shared. To a newfound friend-slash-stranger, anyway. The truth was, I _was_ really sorry. I really didn't mean to make out with her. It's just an accident and she was the one who actually led me on, right? If it wasn't for her _raging_ sexual hormones when she was high and drunk and spouting lines from a book, I could have sworn this awkwardness and guilt I was desperately trying to push down wouldn't exist to begin with this morning.

And she doesn't remember. Of course she wouldn't be able to remember. Confessional words and apology were starting to formulate . . . _Annabeth, you and I kind of had a hook-up last night. But I swear I didn't mean to. It's just you're goddamn horny and fucking sexy but yeah. You're like my sister._

Sister. Hey. Was that a big deal? So what if I got a _thing_ with her? Man, I am Percy Jackson. I had _novad_ a few _cassas_ before. What's the matter? Why does a sixteen-year-old geek brings up hesitation in you? Stupid, seaweed-brained jerk.

" . . . pull over. Just that gate." Annabeth was saying. "No. That gate. Hey. Did you hear me? I said that gate!"

"I know!" I said. "Just-wait."

"What?"

I didn't answer.

"Where the hell are we going?"

I stopped by an optical shop. She scowled. I brought her inside. She didn't protest, though. She badly needed it now, anyway. Her money's gone; I didn't leave her a choice. She _should_ be thankful.

When she told the doctor her grade, I heard it. My eyes went wide.

"Negative seven hundred?" I asked, disbelieving. "Are _you_ human?"

The doctor chuckled, "Your girlfriend needs contacts here, m'boy."

Annabeth frowned. "I'm _not_—"

"Contacts then," I said.

Annabeth pursed her lips. Then, "I was planning to use contacts next month. When I extract my braces—"

"Rubbish," I said. "And besides, if we ordered eyeglasses, you'll be able to get it after practice. And you need your eyes right now."

"I'm not blind—"

"You can hardly see—"

"I can—"

"Okay!" The optometrist laughed. "Pair of silicon contact lenses, negative seven hundred?"

"Yes. Thank you." I said.

Then it was settled.

Annabeth didn't say a word. It was only in the car that she had her contacts on and she could see the real unearthly beauty of myself did she mumbled a reluctant but full thank you.

I grinned widely. "You're welcome, then," I said. "Now which number?"

"You can drop me by the subdivision gate just there—"

_"Which_ number?"

She hesitated. "Four-oh-one," she said. "The beige-colored mansion."

I thought Annabeth was exaggerating. Turns out she wasn't.

* * *

_I Caught Myself (C)_ Paramore _(intro)_

* * *

**A/N:** Do you like _Florence + The Machine_? What's your fave song from them? ;)


	9. refrain i

**the unwanted and i/**

**refrain i/**

_"When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done,_

_Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed."_

**verse xxxix/ annabeth/ saturday, 10:00**

_**okay**_," rachel said. "Do you know I've been waiting for you since I woke up?"

"Huh?" I said. "Why would you?"

Rachel looked troubled and skeptical. "Oh, don't you _huh huh_ me, Chase. Your mother called last night! She was asking for you. And well, what could I say? I have no idea!"

I pursed my lips. We were in her room, as usual. We were waiting for the water to fill her bath tub so I can take a dip. "Look, Rachel—"

"And how did you get here? The maid said you hopped off a blue convertible, who drove you here?"

Oh, Rachel.

"Annie. Where did you spend the night?"

I looked at her very slowly.

"Look, I am your bestfriend—"

"Okay." I said standing up. _"Okay."_

Rachel frowned.

"I'll tell you everything. Everything. But right now," I headed for the bathroom. I'll scrub myself off first, hmm?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Just hurry, Chase!" she shouted as I strip off.

**verse xl/ annabeth/ saturday, 10:15**

_**rachel**_ _**stared.**_

"What?" I asked, exasperated. "I was telling the truth!"

I told her pretty much everything since last night which I remembered. Details. All the details.

"What?" I asked again. "Talk. What will you say? Tell me I'm stupid."

Rachel pursed her lips. Then, "You slept with him? With Percy Jackson?"

I frowned. "Well, no, duh. It was just their house, it was his room—"

"Oh my God,"

"—but what you are thinking didn't happen! Oh, hush, Dare! I didn't—shut _up_!"

She abruptly stood up. When she faced me, she is shaking—with laughter. "Don't you kid and fool me, Annabeth, then where did that hickey come from?" She was pointing at my neck.

I clapped my hand over the bruise. "I don't—it's nothing!"

Rachel was laughing maniacally. She has fallen to the floor, gasping her breathe. "Oh my God, Annie—"

"_Honestly_!" I screeched. I actually didn't know where that hickey come from. I was pretty shell-shocked myself when I saw them. Starting from my neck down to the curves of my breast. Where did that come from? Impossible.

My bestfriend was still laughing insanely on the floor. "Look, Rachel." I said. "Stop laughing goddamit. Really, we didn't. Seriously! I could tell it. And Percy wouldn't lie to me—RACHEL!"

She stopped laughing. "Kay, kay. Whoo. Deep breaths. I can do it. _Okaaaay._ Rachel. Don't—laugh."

Now it's me who stared. "Don't you believe me?"

She blinked. "Now, Annie. I _do_ trust and believe you. It's Jackson I don't trust and believe."

Me either, I wanna say. But I need to trust his word. I need to, because I have to. And duh, I think I would know myself if we had done it, right? I would remember . . .

"I trust him." I said. "He's—he's a good friend."

Rachel sighed. "And you trust him in keeping his word about you and Luke Castellan? You believed he would make you guys closer than friends?"

"Well," I shifted uneasily. "Yeah . . . "

"Tsk," Rachel said. She sat down the bed again and hugged me in a bear-hug. "My poor wittle Annie . . "

I punched her gut. "You bitch,"

We laughed.

**verse xli/ annabeth/ saturday, 14:00**

_**as it turned out**_, rachel didn't go in the party last night. She was sick, actually. Stomach flu. She said she's going to be alright tomorrow and can still attend classes. It was a relief she didn't get mad at me for not telling her that I would go, especially with Percy. I guess she's trying to understand.

She lend me some money so I can take a cab since she can't drive me to school. She told me not to attend and just go straight home but . . . well, I was feeling impertinent this time.

"Hey, Chase," Butch says. "How ya doing?"

I smiled. "'Kay,"

"Where's your glasses?"

"I'm, uh, wearing contacts?"

He grinned. "Well that's my girl," he said. "Now if you will take off those braces . . . "

"Uh, no, no." I insisted. "It was actually an accident, the whole contacts thing. If I hadn't lost my glasses—"

"Oh, come on." he says. "That's much better!"

"BUTCH! ANNABETH! Can you shut up and go to your positions please!" Dakota shouts.

We're at the middle of practice. Everyone around me is having a double take at my appearance. That's kinda rude, right? I mean, it's kinda irritating. If I looked better without glasses, why do they keep staring?

"Lookin' good, Chase." I heard Octavian said to me. I just smiled sheepishly.

Rachel said I looked striking and insisted on puting some coats of mascara on my lashes. I let her, for vanity's sake. And besides . . . I haven't used mascara before.

We're repeating our drill the last time so I guess we're about to go home early. Shame, I thought. I still don't wanna go home.

Dakota called for a break.

"So . . . what happened to your glasses?"

I found Travis staring at me, smiling. He offered me a bottle of water. I took it. "I don't know," I said, which is the truth. "I think I misplaced it,"

"Oh . . . well," He looks uneasy again. Oh, no. I knew that look. "You look better without it. You wearing contacts, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"I'm glad you didn't cover your eye color. You shouldn't,"

"Oh," I blushed but I shook my head. "I don't want to. I mean, my eye color's rare. So I'm told."

He smiled. I smiled back. This is awkward, I thought.

"Um," Here it goes again. His _Um_s. "Do you have anything to do after practice?"

I pondered about his question for a moment. For a second, I considered lying. "Nah," I said. "Nothing."

He smiled. "Well, uh, would you want to just . . . I dunno, have a coffee or something?" He said. "Before you go home?"

"Oh," I frowned. Gee. Coffee. "Like a date?" Really, people. I would want to be straight to get this over with.

His eyes sparkle. "If you'd like to," his words escaped his mouth slowly.

I bit my lip. "I don't date. I mean. Um." Oh my God. I hoped I didn't sound _rude. _I mean, I was just beginning to see what Butch meant about Travis. Maybe it was narcisstic or something like that but he's really _into_ me. And I was not.

He wasn't seemed so fazed at all but I thought the sparkle on his eyes lessen. "Oh, it's okay. I understand. It's just . . . you know, coffee."

I let out a breath of laugh. "Sure," I said. I don't wanna mislead him into thinking that we could have a thing. But maybe, just maybe, I could just coax him into only befriending me. I guess he's not that blind. I liked Travis. But only as a friend. "Why not?"

Travis grinned.

**verse xlii/ annabeth/ saturday, 14:45**

_**our practice ended shortly afterward**_ as I predicted. Travis came over, smiling.

"C'mon?" he said, smiling. Very eager.

"C'mon," I said.

He looked a bit curious about why I didn't bring my car at practice but he didn't ask. He just politely offered to drive me home and of course I said yes. I wouldn't have to take a cab. Travis took me to a cozy coffee shop just a block from the school. We just walked.

"So . . . " I said, as Travis handed me my mug. "What are you doing these past few days?"

He seemed a bit surprise but relieved that I was the one who broke the ice. He shrugged. "Ah, nothing. The troop made me busy,"

"The troop?" I laughed. "I thought you're a busier person than, I don't know, than that?"

He laughed. "I do have my ways of getting busy. But not that busy. Like my brother."

I frowned. "Oh," I said. "You mean Connor? You guys close?"

He grinned. "A lot. But he has more of the wild side."

"Obviously," I said.

I found Travis more endearing and easy to talk to than I thought he would be. I also realized that he's so friendly. Like, exactly a kind of friend I need. And I really can't help but laugh at his casual jokes and I couldn't help but to compare him to Rachel. The difference is, you would have thought Rachel's a feminist bitch and in Travis, you would have thought he's just a cute, timid guy. The truth was they're friendly and nice and comfortable to be with.

"What's that on your neck?" he asked, frowning.

I covered my neck with the scarf I borrowed from Rachel, the bruise must be showing. "Nothing," I said, waving a hand as a dismissal. "I tripped."

He frowned more. _Yes. I tripped on my neck. Believe me._ Sounds stupid, I realized. But I don't want to elaborate.

A few moments passed and it's time to go home. We were walking back at the school for his car.

" . . . yeah, and they're really nice. I mean, Silena and Charlie are perfect for each other."

"Yeah, I heard Beckendorf's nice,"

I laughed.

"What?" He was puzzled but was smiling a bit.

"It seemed funny we're gossiping about other people's love lives," I laughed.

Travis laughed, too. "Like old women,"

"Like old women," I nodded . . . and stop.

Travis bumped into my shoulder. "What?"

He was perched on the hood of his car, looking bored and all, with his arms crossed. I couldn't see his entire expression because he was wearing sunglasses. He also has a gray bonnet on and has a cigarette in his mouth.

He turned to me and put the cigar between his fingers and threw it away casually, smashing it with his foot. "Hey," Percy said.

Travis looked confused. He didn't recognize him.

"I, ah . . . " I stared at his sunglasses-covered eyes, unable to speak. Surely he wasn't waiting for me?

"I found your wallet," he said.

I still looked confused . . . "Annabeth?" Travis said. "Who's this . . . d'you know him . . . ?"

I blinked. "My wallet?" I squeaked.

Percy seemed to be raising his eyebrows. Then casually, he straightened and made a move to go inside his car-the convertible—and started the ignition. Fury rose up inside me. I stormed up to him.

"Okay," I said. "Where's it?" I didn't know why he seemed to be teasing me.

He looked up. I still can't see his eyes. "Hop in; I'll give it to you on the way."

"No," I said. "Give it to me now."

"I'll drive you home then I'll give it to you."

"I can't." I said, uneasily, my eyes flicking towards confused Travis, who was still standing where I left him.

"Oh?" Percy said. "Okay," He floored the gas.

"W-w-wait!" I shouted. This stupid, stupid guy. Knowing his games, I knew he would only give me my wallet now-if I let him drive me home—or never.

Travis came. "Annabeth, what's going on?"

"Wait," I told Travis.

Percy poked his annoying head out. "What, Chase?"

"Please," I said. "I'm thankful, really. But _please_ give it now." My license. _Just_ my license. I just needed my license inside the wallet.

Percy looked at me for a moment. Then he stepped on the gas again—

You're a one shitty guy, Jackson. _"Okay!"_

Percy braked.

"Okay! Just—wait." I said indignantly.

Travis was looking all confused than ever. "What is going on, Annabeth?"

"Look, Travis." I tried to look really sorry like how I really was. "There is some kind of emergency. And that is my friend there. I don't exactly know what is happening either but I need to go with him. Um. I'll just see you tomorrow, okay? I'm sorry."

"Do you really know that guy? I swear I saw him alre—"

Oh, the disguise worked, huh. "Um, yeah. So. Just— see ya!" I smiled sadly and hurried to the convertible, riding shotgun. The moment I closed the door, Percy once again accelerated, leaving Travis behind.

**verse xliii/ percy / saturday, 15: 37**

_**we were silent for a**_ moment. Then suddenly, she spoke up.

"Sometimes you're very annoying." she said, her eyebrows meeting.

"Yeah, thanks." I said.

She sighed exasperatedly. "I couldn't believe I left Travis that—that suddenly."

An unknown emotion tinged with fury rose inside my chest. "Yeah? I'm sorry I interrupted your sweet heart-to-heart talk."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "He's just my friend."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. It's Luke you wanna flirt with. Not anyone else, eh?"

I waited for her to say no. That I was wrong. That she has no intention now to befriend Luke because she was just out of his league. But it didn't come. She didn't answer, actually, like silently admitting my accusations to be partly true. Talk about something very irritating.

I waited for a few moments. Then I said, "I'm sorry, okay?"

She stayed silent.

"I was just—"

"I know," she replied. "You don't have to explain. I understand."

Oh no, sweetheart. You do not understand because even _I_ could not understand. Why was I so desperate to drive her home? Why did I become excited when I found her wallet in my convertible like, I found some token to lure her into seeing again? _No._ I didn't just think that.

I didn't know what I was thinking or doing. It's all odd.

Suddenly, Annabeth said, "Last night," she hesitated.

"What last night?"

"No, nothing."

Yeah, you could fool me. "What is it?"

"I said nothing," she snapped.

Whoa. Girls are weird. Really, really weird. First she's okay. Annoyed but okay. She did say she does understand, yeah? And then after some minutes, after some thought occured in her brain, she was already aggravated and was now snapping at me. Hell.

Well . . . let her come to her senses. I decided not to speak. But when I stopped the car at number 246, the world seemed very silent. There were these images again in my head, courtesy of what happened last night-her kisses . . . her breath smelling faintly of the same tequila I had . . . her neck . . . her chest . . .

"Well?" she has her eyebrows raised. "My where's it?"

Oh, her wallet. I retrieved it from my back pocket and handed it to her. She seemed relieve to see everything's intact there. She said thanks and was ready to hop off the car when I noticed her scarf . . .

I held her arm, stopping her.

She looked at me. "What? I already said thank you. And I really am, you know. But that doesn't cover the fact that you're annoying."

"I know." I said. What am I doing? I could really see that she was truly annoyed. Well, I couldn't blame her; that was my freaking talent.

She shifted to look at me closely. "What? You wanna say something more? Hurry, cuz I was anticipating the scene when I got inside." She jerked her thumb towards her house. "Athena's there already." Maybe it was my imagination but her sarcasm seemed familiar. It was a lot like mine.

"Your _Mom,"_ I corrected, which she ignored.

"Look, I . . ." I started.

Her eyes are trained on me very carefully.

I looked at her neck. She must've been wondering where'd she get _those._ And then I realized . . . Oh. That was what she's intending to ask me. '_Last night_ . . .'

"I kissed you," I blurted out.

I stared. She stared. "And?" she said.

"I'm sorry," I confessed.

She let out a breath she has been holding. Then her eyes turn soft and forgiving.

"You wanna punch me?" I asked cautiously.

"Nah," she said, crossing her arms and staring ahead. "It's not your fault, we're drunk, we're crazy, and it's done. I can't just take it back."

"Yeah," I said. "I felt like I was molesting you. But, really, I was sorry."

She looked at me and laughed. "Guilty, huh?"

I bit back my true response. _Yeah, a bit. But no, not really anymore. _Instead, I said, "And I'm sorry about . . . " I indicated my own neck and chest, hoping that would help her realize that I made all those hickeys.

Thank the God she just blushed. "Yeah," she said. "I just realized that. I mean, I was really trying to convince myself that I was wrong to think it wasn't you but, well . . . " she shrugged. "I guess it didn't matter now, right?"

I smirked, "Yeah,"

She raised her eyebrows, and then she sighed. "That's it for my first kiss, huh. Too bad I can't remember,"

I knew I was her first kiss. For some reasons, I found myself grinning. She rolled her eyes.

I frowned, hesitating. I guess I should tell her about this. "And . . . also, last night . . . when you were drunk and I was driving, you told me a story. I was just wondering if-"

Her eyes are ablazed. Girls _are_ really weird. I gulped.

"What do you mean?" She asked. "Did I ramble about something?"

God, she really didn't know. "Yeah. Something about your father . . . "

Her eyes turned glassy and . . .

"Daddy," she whispered softly. "What did I tell you about him?"

So I told her. Everything she said. When I finished, she was still silent. "Is that real?"

She looked up. "I wished it isn't. But yeah . . . my Daddy's dead and . . . "

"That is why your mother and you had become so distant with each other."

She nodded. And then she looked back at her house. "I guess I'm going to be grounded forever."

I smiled.

She frowned when she saw me smiling. "You're happy I would be grounded?"

I laughed, "At least she's not going to incinerate you,"

She smiled sadly. Then after a while, "I guess I better, you know, go inside."

"Yeah," I nodded reluctantly. Too soon.

"And uh," she hopped off. Before she slammed the door shut she smiled and said, "Thanks . . . for everything."

I couldn't help smiling slowly, "Sure, Wise Girl." I started the ignition. "Anytime."

I guess moments like these should be kept in a bottle. Wild poignant beauty and all. I could not sort my emotions right then because maybe I was so confused myself. Wanting to tell her a thousand reassurances . . . liking to hold her hand . . . I didn't though. And I can't help thinking it's because I was afraid.

Afraid that if I touched her again, this unknown feeling will begin to be something more. So I just drove away, watching her standing on their porch, her face eerily glowing with the soft sunlight.

* * *

**A/N:** So excited now for Marie Lu's _Champion._ ;)) Gonna get my copy this Mondaaay! :D


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